Full text of "Household education"

See other formats

S. G. & E. L. ELBERT

C tit nuii xtf

lit ELLA. SklTH ELBERT »68

Jhx iltruuuuuu

KATHARINE 3. COMAN

Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2014

https://archive.org/details/householdeducatiOOmart_0

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

HARRIET MARTINEAU,

AUTHOR OF " EASTERN LIFE," ETC.

PHILADELPHIA:
LEA & BLANCHAKD.
1849.

King & Baird, Printers, No. 9 George Street.

PREFACE.

A portion of this work appeared; some months ago, in papers in
the People's Journal. The appearance of these papers was sus-
pended by the change in the affairs of that Journal. From that
time to the present, applications have been made to me at intervals,
to request me to finish my subject. In deference to these requests,
I have completed my original design. For its suggestion, I am
indebted to Mr. Saunders, the late editor of the People's Journal.
For the imperfections of the work, which I know to be many and
great, notwithstanding my earnest interest in what I was writing,
no one is responsible but myself.

Ambleside,

November lQth, 1848.

CONTENTS.

CH^P. FAGB

I. OLD AND YOUNG IX SCHOOL, " 1

II. WHAT THE SCHOOLING IS FOR, 7

III. THE NATURAL POSSESSIONS OF MAN, 14

IV. HOW TO EXPECT, 21

V. THE GOLDEN MEAN, 27

TI. THE NEW COMER, 33

Ttt. CARE OF THE FRAME, . - 39

VIII. CARE OF THE POWERS. WILL, 45

IX. HOPE, .......... 51

X. FEAR, 57

XI. PATIENCE, 66

XII. PATIENCE. INFIRMITY, 73

XIII. PATIENCE. INFIRMITY, 82

XIY. LOYE, 87

XV. VENERATION, 95

XYI. TRUTHFULNESS, 102

XVII. CONSCIENTIOUSNESS, Ill

Viii. CONTENTS.

CHAP. PAOK.

XVIII. INTELLECTUAL TRAINING. ITS REQUISITES," . . . 120

XIX. ORDER OF DEVELOPMENT. THE PERCEPTIVE FACULTIES, 128

X\". THE CONCEPTIVE FACULTIES, 137 -

XXI. THE REASONING FACULTIES. FEMALE EDUCATION, . 149

XXII. THE IMAGINATIVE FACULTIES, 159

XXIII. CARE OF THE HABITS. IMPORTANCE OF HABIT, . . 169

XXIV. PERSONAL HABITS, 178

XXV. FAMILY HABITS, . . . . ' . . . 193

XXVI. CONCLUSION, 208

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

CHAPTER I.

OLD AND YOUNG IN SCHOOL.

Household Education is a subject so important in its bear-
ings on every one's happiness, and so inexhaustible in itself,
that I do not see how any person whatever can undertake to
lecture upon it authoritatively, as if it was a matter completely
known and entirely settled. It seems to me that all that we
can do is to reflect, and say what we think, and learn of one
another. This is, at least, all that I venture to offer. I propose
to say, in a series of chapters, what I have observed and thought
on the subject of Life at Home, during upwards of twenty
years' study of domestic life in great variety. It will be for
my readers to discover whether they agree in my views, and
whether their minds are set to work by what I say on a matter
which concerns them as seriously as any in the world. Once
for all, let me declare here what I hope will be remembered
throughout, that I have no ambition to teach; but a strong
desire to set members of households consulting together about
their course of action towards each other.

It will be seen by these last words that I consider all the
members of a household to be going through a process of edu-
cation together. I am not thinking only of parents drawing
their chairs together when the children have gone to bed, to
talk over the young people's qualities and ways. That is all
very well ; but it is only a small part of the business. I am

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

not thinking of the old, experienced grandfather or grandmo-
ther talking at the fireside, telling the parents of the sleeping
children how they ought to manage them, and what rules and
methods were in force in their day. This is all very well ; and
every sensible person will be thankful to hear what the aged
have to tell, out of their long knowledge of life : but this again
is a very small part of the matter. Every member of the
household — children, servants, apprentices — every inmate of
the dwelling, must have a share in the family plan; or those
who make it are despots, and those who are excluded are
slaves.

Of course, this does not mean that children who have
scarcely any knowledge, little judgment, and no experience,
are to have a choice about the rules of their own training. The
object of training is one thing ; and the rules and methods are
another. With rules and methods they have nothing to do but
to obey them till they become able to command themselves.
But there is no rational being who is not capable of under-
standing, from the time he can speak, what it is to wish to be
good. The stupidest servant-girl, and the most thoughtless
apprentice-boy, are always impressed by seeing those about
them anxious to improve ; and especially the oldest of all en-
deavouring the more to become wiser and wiser, better and
better, as their few remaining days dwindle away. If the
family plan, therefore, be the grand comprehensive plan which
is alone worthy of people who care about education at all — a
plan to do the best that is possible by each other for the im-
provement of all — every member of the family above the year-
ling infant must be a member of the domestic school of mutual
instruction, and must know that he is so.

It is a common saying that every child thinks his father the
wisest man in the world. This is very natural ; as parents are
their children's fountains of knowledge. To them their children
come for anything they want to know: and by them they are
generally satisfied. But every wise parent has occasion to say,
now and then — «I do not know, my dear." The surprise of

OLD AND YOUNG IN SCHOOL.

the child on first hearing that there is anything that his parents
do not know fixes the facSHn\his mind. When he has once
discovered that his parents jjave something more to learn, he
becomes; aware — and this also ought to be fixed in his mind —
that the||^ education is not Jjfnished ; and that it is their busi-
ness, aSt is his, to learn* sAjfcthing more every day, as long
as they live. So much forjmowledge. The case ought to be
as clearJoJiim with„reg3fa to goodness. It is not enough that
in churr^pfe hears that Eu^hjaen and women are sinners ; and
that in plryefs at home hASrs his parents pray that they may
become more worthy of tne^goodness of God, and more like
the Christ who is set before them. These things may set him
thinking; but there will l^u or ought to be, more light every
day to clear up his idea^^The same parents who honestly
own to their child that they are ignorant of things about which
he questions them, will own to him that they are not nearly so
good as they wish to be. Thus is the truth opened to the
feeblest and smallest mind that education has still to go on,
even when people are so inconceivably old as children are apt
to think their parents.

To us, grown up to this mighty age, there can be no doubt
on such a point. We know very well that we are all, through
the whole range of society, like a set of ignorant and wayward
children, compared with what we are made capable of being.
Our best knowledge is but a glimmering — a dawn of light
which we may hope will " increase more and more unto the
perfect day." Our best goodness is so weak, so mixed, so
inferior to what we can conceive of, that we should blush to
say that during any day of our lives we had been as good as
we ought to be. It is as clear to us as to children, that there
is room for improvement in both ways as long as we live. To
us there is another question which children cannot enter into,
and have no present business with whether human beings
remain capable of improvement as long as they live.

About this there are different opinions. I rather think the
prevailing belief is that they are not ; and that this prevailing

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

belief arises from the commonness of the spectacle, not only of
the faults of old age, but of the Inability of even amiable and
lively old people to receive new kleas, or correct bad habits.
This is certainly the commonest aspect of old age; and serious
is the warning it affords to correct our faulty tempers and ways
before we grow stiff in mind, a>>Vell as in body. But I do
not think that this spectacle sett^ the question. JVe might
as well say that the human intellect elm achieve no £reat work
after five-and-twenty, because th& ill-educated raBf never
does. As long as we see one sm^e instance of' a mind still
expanding in a man of eighty-five, of a temper improving in
one of ninety, of a troublesome daily habit conscientiously
cured, after the indulgence of a ltfe-time, by an old lady of
seventy-five, we perceive that ecRation may go on to the
extreme limit of life, and should suppose that it might be gene-
rally so, but for the imperfect training of preceding years.

I have known of one old man whose mind was certainly still
growing when he died, at the age of eighty-six. I have known
of another, whose study through life had been the laws of the
mind, and who, when his faculties were failing him, applied
himself to that study, marking the gradual decline of certain
of his powers, adding the new facts to his stores of knowledge,
and thus nourishing to the last a part of his mind with the decay
of the rest. This instance of persevering self-improvement under
conditions which any one would admit to be those of release
from labour, appears to me even more affecting than that of
the great physician who watched his own approaching death
with his finger on his pulse, notifying its last beat as his heart
came to a stop, hoping to contribute one more fact to useful
science. With cases like these before us, how shall we dare
to suppose our education completed while we have one faculty
remaining, or our hearts have yet one more beat to give ?

As for the continuance of moral education to the last, I have
seen two contrasted cases, in close neighbourhood, which make
the matter pretty plain, in a practical sense, to me. I knew
two old ladies, living only the length of a street apart, who

OLD AND YOUNG IN SCHOOL.

were fair specimens of educated and uneducated old age. The
one belonged to a family who were remarkable for attaining a
great age ; and she always confidently reckoned on her lot
being the same as that of her predecessors. It is true, her
mother, being above a hundred, called her and her sister "the
girls" when they were above seventy ; but still one would have
thought that gray hairs and wrinkles would have gone some
way as a warning to her. Instead, however, of reckoning on
her future" years (if she must reckon on them) as so much time
to grow wiser in, she was merely surprised at her friends when
they advised her (she being then eighty) to make some other
terms for her house than taking another lease of fourteen years.
She could not conceive, as the last lease had answered so well,
why the next should not. I remember seeing her face, all
puckered with wrinkles, surmounted by rows of bright brown
false curls, and her arms, bare above the elbows, adorned
with armlets, such as young ladies wore half a century before.
I remember a clever pert youth setting himself to quiz and
amuse her by humouring her in her notions about the state of
the world, drawing her out to praise the last century and
express her ignorant contempt of this, till she nodded emphati-
cally over her hand of cards, and declared that the depravity
of the age was owing to gas lamps and macadamisation. She
died very old, but no wiser than this. Her case proves only
that her education did stop ; and not that it need have stopped.
The other was a woman of no great cultivation, but of a humble,
earnest, benevolent nature, full of a sense of duty towards God
and man ; and, in them, towards herself. Having survived her
nearest connections, she had no strong desire to live; and her
affairs were always arranged for departure, down to the label-
ing of every paper, and the neatness of every drawer. Yet
no one was more alive to the improvements of the modern
world. I shall never forget the earnest look with which she
would listen to any tidings of new knowledge, or new social
conveniences. A more dignified woman I never knew ; yet
she listened to the young who brought information — listened

HOUSEHOLD EEUCATION.

as a learner — with a deference which was most touching to
witness. But there was more than this. She was conscious
of having been, in her earlier days, somewhat hard, somewhat
given to lecture and lay down the law, and criticise people all
round by family notions ; a tendency which, if it really existed,
arose from family and not personal pride ; for, though she might
overrate the wisdom of parents and brothers, there never was
any sign of her overvaluing her own. However this might be,
she believed that she had been hard and critical in former
times ; and she went on softening and growing liberal to the
day of her death. I never observed any weakness — much less
any laxity — in her gentleness towards the feeble and the frail.
It was the holy tenderness which the pure and upright can
afford to indulge and impart. The crowning proof that her
improvement was the result of self-discipline and not of circum-
stances was that when, at above seventy years of age, she
became the inmate of a family whose habits were somewhat
rigid, and in many respects unlike her own, she changed her
own to suit theirs, even forcing herself to an observance of
punctuality, in which she had been deficient all her life, and
about which she had scarcely ever needed to think while for
many years living alone. Of course, this moral discipline
implies some considerable use of the intellect. She read a good
deal ; and carried an earnest mind into all her pursuits. And
when her memory began to fail, and she could not retain
beyond the day what she had read, her mind did not become
weak. It was always at work, and always on good subjects,
though she could no longer add much to her store of mere
knowledge. Her case proves surely that education need never
stop.

Now, if we picture to ourselves a household, with an ho-
noured being like this as the occupant of the fireside chair,
we can at once see how it may be completely understood and
agreed upon among them all that the education of every one
of them is always going on, and to go on for ever while they
live. No child could ever stand at the knee of my old friend

WnAT THE SCHOOLING IS FOR.

without feeling that she was incessantly bent on self-improve-
ment— as earnest to learn from the humblest and youngest as
ready to yield the benefits of her experience and reflections to
any whom she could inform and guide. When taken severely
ill, she said, with a smile, to one by her bedside, "Why do
you look so anxious ? If I do die to-day, there is nothing to
be unhappy about. I have long passed the time when I ex-
pected to go. What does it matter whether I die now or a
twelve-month hence ?" And when that illness was over, she
regarded it as a process in her training, and persevered, as
before, in trying to grow wiser and more worthy. Here was
a case in which Household Education visibly included the old-
est as naturally as the youngest. And in all dwellings, all the
members are included in the influences which work upon the
whole, whether they have the wisdom to see it or not. Hence-
forward, therefore, I shall write on the supposition that we are
all children together- — from the greatest to the least — the wisest
and the best needing all the good they can get from the pecu-
liar influences of Home.

CHAPTER n.

WHAT THE SCHOOLING IS FOR.

EvERY^home being a school for old and young together, it
is necessary, if the training is to be a good one, to be clear as
to what the schooling is for.

For the improvement of the pupils, is the most obvious
answer. t

Yes; but what do you mean by improvement? We must
settle what we want to make of the pupils, or everything will
go on at random. In every country of the world, there is
some sort of general notion of what the men and women in it

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

ought to be : and the men and women turn out accordingly :
and the more certainly, the more clear the notion is.

The patriarchs, some thousands of years ago, had very clear
notions of their own of what people ought to be. One of
these sitting in the evening of a hot day under a terebinth
tree ten times his own age, would be able to give a distinct
account of what he would have the training of his great-
grandchildren tend to. He would lay it down as the first
point of all that the highest honour and the greatest privilege
in the world was to be extremely old. The next most desir-
able thing was to have the largest possible number of descend-
ants ; because the earth was very wide, and not half enough
people in it; and the more people a patriarch had about him,
the richer and more beautiful would the valleys and pastures
be, and the more power and authority he would have — every
patriarch being an absolute ruler over his own family, and the
more like a king the larger his tribe. Of course, the old man
would say decidedly, that to make the best possible man, you
must train a child to obey his parents, and yet more the head
of a tribe, with the most absolute submission ; to do in the
cleverest way what was necessary for defence against an
enemy, and to obtain food, and the skins of beasts for clothing.
The more wives and the more children the better. These
wTere the principal points. After these, he would speak of its
being right for such as would probably become the head of a
tribe to cultivate such wisdom and temper as would make
them good rulers, and enable them to maintain peace among
their followers. Such was the patriarchal notion of improving
man to the utmost — omitting certain considerations which we
think important, — truthfulness, temperance, amiability, respect
for other men, and reverence for something a good deal more
solemn than mere old age.

Some wise men in Greece would have given a different
account of the aim of Education. A Spartan, for instance,
living in a little country which was always in danger
from enemies without and slaves within, looked upon every

WHAT THE SCHOOLING IS FOR.

boy as a future soldier, and as born to help to preserve the
state. Every sickly or deformed child might be killed off
at the desire of the father's kin. The healthy and promising
were looked after by the State from their earliest years ; and at
the age of seven were put under public training entirely.
They were taught to bear hunger, and be content with coarse
food ; to endure flogging without a groan, sometimes to the
point of death ; and all for practice in bearing pain. They
were trained to all warlike exercises ; their amusements were
wrestling and sham battles ; their accomplishments singing
martial songs. They were taught to reverence rank and age ;
to hate their enemies ; to use fraud in war ; to be unable to
bear shame, whether deserved or not ; and to treat women
with respect, not at all for their own sakes, but because de-
spised women could not be the mothers of heroes. Thus, to
make a perfect soldier was what a good Spartan considered
the great object of education.

The Jew, in his own Palestine, would have given a differ-
ent answer, in some respects, though he also reared his chil-
dren to hate their enemies, and to covet both martial and
patriarchal glory. His leading belief was that a greater God
than any other nation had ever worshipped was the special
ruler and protector of his own. Jehovah was the King as well
as the God of the Jews ; and the first virtue of a Jew was to
obey every tittle of the Law, which ordered all things whatso-
ever in the lives of those who lived under it. Obedience to
the Law, in affairs of food, dress, seasons of work, sleep, wor-
ship, journeying, &c, as well as in some higher matters, was
the main thing taught by a good parent, while he knew and
thought nothing of the higher and holier aims opened by the
Gospel; of which, indeed, many a well-meaning Jewish pa-
rent could not bear to hear from the lips of Christ, when he
came to declare what every man should be. When he de-
clared that men should rise above the Law, and be perfect as
their Father in heaven is perfect, some strict Jewish educators

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

crucified him. In a Jew's mind, the best man was he who
most servilely obeyed the letter of the Law.

When I was in America, I saw three kinds of people who
had their own notions of what it was to be a perfect man —
each their own idea of the chief aim in Education; notions
as wide of each other as those of the Patriarch, the Spartan,
and the Jew, There were the dwellers in the cities ; men
speaking our language, and looking very like ourselves. These
men were, as was natural, proud of their young and prosper-
ous republic ; and they thought more about politics than ap-
pears to us necessary or wise in a life which contains so many
other great interests. Their children were brought up to talk
politics before they could be qualified to have an opinion ; and
taught at school to despise other nations, and glorify their own,
as a preparation for exercising the suffrage at twenty-one, and
thereby becoming, in a republic so constituted, a member of
the government. The privilege — the trust — is a most import-
ant one ; and we cannot wonder that the subject is an engross-
ing one to parents and children. The object of education
among a very large proportion of American parents is to
make politicians: and it certainly is attained.

On the same continent, I saw something of a very different
race — the red men. Their idea of perfection is a man's being
a perfect warrior : and yet in a way quite unlike the Spartans.
The red Indian is not trained as a servant of the State, but as
an individual: and the Indian women are degraded and op-
pressed, while the Spartan women wrere considered and re-
spected— whatever the ground of consideration might be.
The Indian boy is trained to use his five senses till they reach
an unequalled degree of nicety. And, when old enough to
bear the pain without dying, he is subjected first to hunger and
want of sleep, and then to such horrible tortures as it turns
one sick to think of. He who comes out of this trial the most
bravely, and who afterwards shows himself the most alert sen-
tinel, the strongest, and most enduring soldier, the most re-

WHAT THE SCHOOLING IS FOR.

vengeful enemy, the most cruel conqueror, and the sternest
husband and father, is, in the eyes of his people, the most per-
fect man. The red Indians, therefore, generally make an ap-
proach to this kind of a character.

In the island of Mackinaw lives the other sort of people I
have referred to. This island rises out of the wide waters of
the great northern lakes, a perfect paradise in the midst of the
boundless blue expanse. The people who inhabit it are, for
the most part, half-breeds — the offspring of the red race and
the French colonists who first settled on the island. The great
object here seems to be, to become amphibious ; and truly, it
appeared to me pretty well attained. The dark-skinned boys
who surrounded our ship, and all others that I saw, were pop-
pling about in the water, as easily as so many fowl ; and they
scud about in their tiny birch-bark canoes as readily as we
walk on our feet, thinking no more of being capsized than we
do of falling.

The aim here has about the same level as that of the Arabs,
to whom water is the greatest rarity, and to whom the sandy
desert serves much the same purpose as the inland seas to the
dwellers in Mackinaw. The horse of the Arab is to him as
the bark-canoe to the half-breed of Mackinaw; and children
are launched into the desert, to live in it as best they may, as
the half-breed boys are into the watery waste. And they suc-
ceed as well, conquering the desert, turning its dangers into
sport, and making a living out of it. And so it is with the
native dwellers in the icy deserts of Siberia. A perfectly edu-
cated person there is one who can surprise the greatest number
of water-fowl in summer, foretell soonest the snow-storm in
winter, best learn the hour from the stars, bank up the most
sheltered sleeping-place in the snow, and light a fire within it
the most quickly; dive among the beavers for the longest time;
see in the dark like an owl ; track game like a pointer, fetch
it like a spaniel ; hearken like a deer, and run like an ostrich.
Such being the Mongolian notion of perfection, it is more
nearly approached by them than by others.

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

None of these aims are ours, or such as we approve. What
then is ours? It is easy to answer, " to grow wiser and better
every day:" but then comes the question, what is the wisdom,
what is the goodness, that we aspire to ? All the people I
have mentioned aim at improvement in wisdom and goodness
every day. Our difference with them is precisely about what
wisdom and goodness are.

We are not likely to agree by setting up each our own notion
of wisdom and goodness. Hear children at school talking of
the heroes they admire most, and see how seldom they agree.
One admires the brave man ; another the patient man ; another
the philanthropist ; another the man of power ; another the man
of holiness ; another the patriot. Hear men talking by the fire-
side of the sages of the race ; how they vary in their prefer-
ences, and select for themselves from among the group of
mighty minds — the fathers of philosophy, of science, of art, of
law and government, of morals. We shall never arrive at a
practical point by setting up our separate preferences as aims
for all.

Nor will it answer to fix our aim by any single example: no,
not even — with reverence be it spoken — by the great Exemplar,
Christ himself. The fault and weakness of this inability are in
ourselves. It is not any cloud in him, but partial blindness in
us, which renders this method insufficient in itself. All-perfect
as is the example, we cannot all, and constantly, use its full
perfection, from our tendency to contemplate it from the favour-
ite point of view which every one of us has. One of us dwells
most on the tenderness of his character ; another on its right-
eous sternness ; one on his power ; another on his meek patience ;
and so on. And thus, while it is, and ever will be, of the
utmost importance that we should preserve the aim of becom-
ing like Christ, it yet remains to be settled among us, in fact
though not perhaps in words, what Christ was, the images of
him in different minds varying so endlessly as they certainly do. .

The only method that appears to me absolutely safe and wise,
is one which perfectly wrell agrees with our taking this great

WHAT THE SCHOOLING IS FOR.

Exemplar as our model. Each of us have a frame « fearfully
and wonderfully made with such a variety of powers, that
no one yet knows them all, or can be sure that he understands
the extent of any one of them. It is impossible that we can
be wrong in desiring and endeavouring to bring out and
strengthen and exercise all the powers given to every human
being. In my opinion, this should be the aim of education.

I have said, " to bring out, and strengthen, and exercise all
the powers." Some would add, " and balance them." But
if all were faithfully exercised, I am of opinion that a better
balance would ensue than we could secure, so partial as are
our views, and so imperfect as has been the training of the best
of us.

I shall gladly proceed, in my next chapter, to declare what
I think we have learned as to what the powers of the human
beings are. At present, I can only just point out that the aim
proposed is superior to every other mentioned, and I believe
to any other that can be mentioned, for this reason : that it
applies universally — meets every case that can be conceived
of. In the patriarch's scheme of education, the women — half
the race — were slighted. In the Spartan system, the slaves
and all work-people were left out. Among the modern repub-
licans, citizens have the preference over women and slaves ;
and under the savage training — the Indian, Arab, and Mongo-
lian— no individual whatever is done justice to. And there
is not a country in Christendom where equal justice is done to
all those whom we see entering the world so endowed as that
we ought to look on every one of them with religious awe as
a being too noble for our estimate. The aim proposed — of
doing justice to all the powers of every human being under
training — includes all alike, and must therefore be just. It
includes women, the poor, the infirm — all who wrere rejected
or slighted under former systems — while it does more for the
privileged than any lower principle ever proposed to do. It
appears that under it none will be the worse, but all the better,
in comparison of this wkh any lower aim.

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

To obtain a clearer and firmer notion of what this object
really comprehends, we must next make out, as well as our
present knowledge allows, what the powers of the human being
are. I mean as to their kind ; for I do not think any one will
venture to say what is the extent of endowments so vast ; and
in their vastness so obscure.

CHAPTER III.

THE NATURAL POSSESSIONS OF MAN.

What are the powers of the human being ?

I speak of those powers only which are the object of educa-
tion. There are some wThich work of themselves for the pre-
servation of life, and with which we have nothing to do but to
let them work freely. The heart beats, the stomach digests,
the lungs play, the skin transpires, without any care of ours,
and we have only to avoid hindering any of these actions.

Next, man has four limbs. Of these, two have to be trained
to move him from place to place in a great variety of ways.
There are many degrees of agility between the bow-legged
cripple, set too early upon his feet, and the chamois-hunter of
the Alps, who leaps the icy chasms of the glacier, and springs
from point to point of the rock. The two seem hardly to be
of the same race ; yet education has made each of them what
he is.

The two other limbs depend upon training for much of their
strength and use. Look at the pale student, who lives shut
up in his study, never having been trained to use his arms and
hands but for dressing and feeding himself, turning over books,
and guiding the pen. Look at his spindles of arms and his
thin fingers, and compare them with the brawny limbs of the
blacksmith, or the hands of the quay-porter, whose grasp is

THE NATURAL POSSESSIONS OF MAN.

like that of a piece of strong machinery. Compare the feeble
and awkward touch of the book-worm who can hardly button
his waistcoat, or carry his cup of tea to his mouth, with the
power that the modeller, the ivory carver, and the watchmaker
have over their fingers. It is education which has made the
difference between these.

Man has five senses. Though much is done by the incidents
of daily life to exercise all the five, still a vast difference
ensues upon varieties of training. A fireman in London, and
an Indian in the prairie, can smell smoke when nobody else is
aware of it. An epicure can taste a cork in wine, or a spice in
a stew, to the dismay of the butler, and the delight of the cook,
when every one else is insensible. One person can feel by the
skin whether the wind is east or west before he gets out of bed
in the morning ; while another has to hold up a handkerchief
in the open air, or look at the weathercock, before he can answer
the question — « How 's the wind ?"

As for the two noblest senses, there are great constitutional
differences among men. Some are naturally short-sighted, and
some dull of hearing ; but the differences caused by training
are more frequent and striking. If, of two boys born w7ith
equally good eyes and ears, one is very early put, all alone, to
keep sheep on a hill side, where he never speaks or is spoken
to, and comes home only to sleep, and the other works with
his father at joiner's work, or in sea-fishing, or at a water-mill,
they will, at manhood, hardly appear to belong to the same
race. While the one can tell veneer from mahogany in passing
a shop window, the other cannot see any difference between
one stranger's face and another's. While the sleepy clown
cannot distinguish sea from land half a mile off, the fisherman
can see the grayest sail of the smallest sloop among the billows
on the horizon. While the shepherd does not hear himself
called till the shout is in his ear, the miller tells by the fireside,
by the run of the water, whether the stream is deepening or
threatening to go dry. Of course, the quickness or slowness
of the mind has much to do with these differences of eye and

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

ear ; but besides that, the eye and ear differ according to train-
ing. The miller, with his mind and ear all awake, would
hear, with all his efforts, only four or five birds' notes in a
wood, where a naturalist would hear twenty ; and the fisher-
man might declare the wide air to be vacant, when a mountain
sportsman would see an eagle, like a minute speck, indicating
by its mode of flight where the game lay below.

Man has a capacity for pleasure and pain.

This is an all-important part of his nature of which we can
give no account, because it is incomprehensible. How he
feels pleasure and pain, and why one sensation or thought
delights him and another makes him miserable, nobody ever
knew yet, or perhaps ever will know. It is enough for us
that the fact is so. Of all the solemn considerations involved
in the great work of education, none is so awful as this — the
right exercise and training of the sense of pleasure and pain.
The man who feels most pleasure in putting brandy into his
stomach, or in any other way gratifying his nerves of sensation,
is a mere beast. One whose chief pleasure is in the exercise
of the limbs, and who plays without any exercise of the mind,
is a more harmless sort of animal, like the lamb in the field,
or the swallow skimming over meadow or pool. He whose
delight is to represent nature by painting, or to build edifices
by some beautiful idea, or to echo feelings in music, is of an
immeasurably higher order. Higher still is he who is charmed
by thought, above every thing — whose understanding gives
him more satisfaction than any other power he has. Higher
still is he who is never so happy as when he is making other
people happy — when he is relieving pain, and giving pleasure
to two, or three, or more people about him. Higher yet is he
whose chief joy it is to labour at great and eternal thoughts,
in which lies bound up the happiness of a whole nation and
perhaps a whole world, at a future time when he will be
mouldering in his grave. Any man who is capable of this
joy, and at the same time of spreading comfort and pleasure
among the few who live round about him, is the noblest human

THE NATURAL POSSESSIONS OF MAN.

being we can conceive of. He is also the happiest. It is true
that his capacity for pain is exercised and enlarged, as well as
his power of feeling pleasure. But what pains such a man is
the vice, and folly, and misery of his fellow-men ; and he knows
that these must melt away hereafter in the light of the great
ideas which he perceives to be in store for them : while his
pleasure being in the faith of a better future is as vivid and as
sure as great thoughts are clear and eternal. For an illustra-
tion of this noblest means of happiness, we had better look to
the highest instance of all. I have always thought that we are
apt to dwell too much on the suffering and sorrow of the lot
and mind of Christ. Our reverence and sympathy should be
more with his abounding joy. I think those who read with
clear eyes and an open mind will see evidences of an unutter-
able joy in his words — may almost think they hear it in his
tones, when he promised heaven to the disinterested and earth
to the meek, and satisfaction to the earnest ; when he welcomed
the faith of the centurian, and the hope of the penitent, and
the charity of the widow ; when he foresaw the incoming of the
Gentiles, and knew that heaven and earth should pass away
sooner than his words of life and truth. The sufferings of the
holy can never surely transcend their peace : and whose fulness
of joy can compare with theirs?

Before man can feel pleasure or pain from outward objects
or from thoughts, he must perceive them. To a new-born in-
fant, or a blind person enabled to see for the first time, objects
before the eyes can hardly be said to exist. The blue sky and
a green tree beside a white house are not seen but as a blotch
of colours which touches the eye. This is the account given
by persons couched for cataract, who have never before seen a
ray of light. They see as if they saw not. But the power is
in them. By degrees they receive the images, and perceive
the objects. A child learns to receive sounds separately ; then
to perceive one voice among others ; then to distinguish one
tone from another — the voice of soothing from that of playful-
ness— the tone of warning from that of approbation ; then it

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

receives thoughts through the sounds ; and so on, till the power
is exercised to the fullest extent that we know of— when distinct
ideas are admitted from the minutest appearances or leadings —
strange bodies detected in the heavens, and fresh truths in the
loftiest regions of human speculation. It depends much on
training whether objects and thoughts remain for life indistinct
and confused before the perceptive power, as before infant
vision, or whether all is clear and vivid as before a keen and
practised eye.

We know not how Memory acts, any more than we under-
stand how we feel pleasure and pain. But we all know how
the power of recalling images, words, thoughts and feelings,
depends on exercise. A person whose power of memory has
been neglected has little use of his past life. The time, and
people, and events that have passed by have left him little bet-
ter than they found him : while every day, every person, and
every incident deposits some wealth of knowledge wTith him
whose memory can receive and retain his experience.

Then there are other powers which it will be enough merely to
mention here, as we shall have to consider them more fully
hereafter. Man has the power, after perceiving objects and
thoughts, to compare them, and see wThen they differ and agree ;
to penetrate their nature, and understand their purpose and
action. It is thus that he obtains a knowledge of creation, and
the curious powers, whether hidden or open to view, which
are for ever at work in it.

He can reason from what he knows to what he has reason
to suppose, and put his idea to the proof. He can imitate
what he see's; and also the idea in his mind ; and hence comes
invention ; ami that wise kind of guess into what is possible
which leads to great discovery ; discovery sometimes of a vast
continent, sometimes of a vast agency in nature for men's uses,
sometimes of a vast truth which may prove a greater acquisi-
tion to men's souls than a new hemisphere for their habitation.

Man has also a wonderful power of conceiving of things
about wrhich he cannot reason. We do not know how it is,

THE NATURAL POSSESSIONS OF MAX.

but the more we dwell on what is beautiful and striking, what
is true before our eyes and impressive to our minds, the more
able we become to conceive of things more beautiful, striking,
and noble, which have never existed, but might well be true.
None of our powers require more earnest and careful exercise
than this grand one of the imagination. Those in whom it is
suppressed can never be capable of heroic acts, of lofty wis-
dom, of the purest happiness. Those in whom it is neglected
may exercise the little power they have in a fruitless direction,
probably aggravating their own faults, and certainly wasting
the power on ideas too low for it, as the voluptuary who dreams
of selfish pleasure, or the despot, grand or petty, who makes
visions of unchecked tyranny. Those in whom it is healthily
exercised will become as elevated and expanded as their na-
ture admits, and one here and there proves a Mahommed,
lifting up half the human race into a higher condition ; or a
Raffaelle, bringing down seraphs and cherubs from heaven,
and so clothing them as that men may look upon them and
grow like them ; or a Shakspeare, who became a creator in
that way which is truly no impiety, but, on the contrary, the
highest worship. Men are apt, in all times and everywhere,
to blaspheme, by attributing to God their own evil passions
and narrow ideas. It is through this power of the imagination
that they rise to that highest ideal which is the truest piety.
They rise to share godlike attributes ; the prophet seeing " the
things that are not as though they were," and the poet creat-
ing beings that live, and move, and have their being, immor-
tal in the mind of man. Such a power resides more or less in
every infant that lies in the bosom of every family. Alas for
its guardians, if they quench this power, or turn it into a curse
and disease by foul feeding!

Then, the Emotions of men are so many powers, to be re-
cognised and trained. Of the power of Hope there is no need
to speak, for all see what it is as a stimulus, both in particular
acts, and through the whole course of a life. Fear is hardly
less important, though it is intended to die out, or rather to

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

pass into other and higher kinds of feeling. A child who has
never known a sensation of fear (if there be such an one) can
never be a man of a high order. He must either be coarsely
made in body, or unable to conceive of anything but what is
familiar to him. A child whose heart beats at shadows and
the fitful sounds of the invisible wind, and who hides his face
on his mother's bosom when the stars seem to be looking at
him as they roll, is no philosopher at present ; but he is likely
to grow into one if this fear is duly trained into awe, humility,
thoughtfulness, till, united with knowledge, it becomes con-
templation, and grows into that glorious courage which searches
all through creation for ultimate truth. Out of Fear, too, grows
our power of Pity. Without fear of pain, we could not enter
into the pain of others. Fear must be lost in reverence and
love : but reverence and love could never be so powerful as
they ought to be, if they were not first vivified by the power
of Fear.

What the power of Love is, in all its forms, there is no
need to declare to any one who has an eye and a heart. In the
form of Pity, how it led Howard to spend his life in loathsome
prisons, crowded with yet more loathsome guilt ! In other forms,
how it sustains the unwearied mother watching through long
nights over her wailing infant ! How it makes of a father, rough
perhaps to all others, a holy and tender guardian of his pure
daughters ! and how it makes ministering angels of them to
him in turn ! How we see it, everywhere in the world, making
the feeble and otherwise scantily-endowed strong in self-denial,
cheerful to endure, fearless to die ! A mighty power surely is
that which, breathing from the soul of an individual man, can
<< conquer Death, and triumph over Time."

Then there is in man a force by which he can win and con-
quer his way through all opposition of circumstance, and the
same force in others. This power of Will is the greatest force
on earth — the most important to the individual, and the most
influential over the whole race. A strong Will turned to evil
lets hell loose upon the world. A strong Will wholly occupied

HOW TO EXPECT.

with good might do more than we can tell to bring down Hea-
ven into the midst of us. If among all the homes of our land,
there be one infant in whom this force is discerned working
strongly, and if that infant be under such guardianship as to
have its will brought to bear on things that are pure, holy, and
lovely, to that being we may look as to a regenerator of his
race. He may be anywhere where there are children. Are
there any parents who will not look reverently into the awful
nature of their children, search into their endowments, and try
of every one of them whether it may not be he ? If not he, it is
certain that every one of them is a being too mysterious, too
richly gifted, and too noble in faculties not to be welcomed and
cherished as a heaven-sent stranger. How can we too care-
fully set in order the home in which it is to dwell ?

CHAPTER IV.

HOW TO EXPECT. 1

Whatever method parents may choose for educating a child,
they must have some idea in their minds of what they would
have him turn out. Even if they set before them the highest
aim of all — exercising and training all his powers — still they
must have some thoughts and wishes, some hopes and fears,
as what the issue will prove to be.

In all states of society, the generality of parents have wished
that their children should turn out such as the opinion of their
own time and country should approve. There is a law of opinion
in every society as to what people should be. We have seen
something of what this opinion was among the Patriarchs of
old, the Spartans, the Jews, and others. In our own day, we
find wide differences among neighbouring nations, civilized,
and so-called, christianized. The French have a greater value

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

for kindness and cheerfulness of temper and manners than the
English, and a less value for truth. The Russians have a
greater value for social order and obedience, and less for
honesty. The Americans have a greater value for activity of
mind and pursuits, and less for peace and comfort. In these
and all other countries, parents in general will naturally desire
that their children should turn out that which is taken for granted
to be most valuable.

An ordinary English parent of our time, who had not given
much thought to the subject, would wish that his son should
turn out as follows : — He would wish that the child should be
docile and obedient, clever enough to make teaching him an
easy matter, and to afford promise of his being a distinguished
man ; truthful, affectionate, and spirited ; that as a man he
should be upright and amiable, sufficiently religious to preserve
his tranquillity of mind and integrity of conduct : steady in his
business and prudent in his marriage, so far as to be pros-
perous in his affairs.

Now, this looks all very well to a careless eye : but it will
not satisfy a thoughtful mind. In all the ages and societies
we have spoken of, there have been a few men wiser than the
average, who have seen that the human being might and ought
to be something better than the law of Opinion required that
he should be. There are certainly Hindoos now living and
meditating who do not consider that men are so good as they
might be, while they think no harm of lying and stealing, and
who are sorry for the superstition which makes it an unpardon-
able crime to hurt a cow. There are men among the Ameri-
cans who see virtue in repose of mind, and moderation of
desires to which the majority of their countrymen are insensible.
And so it is in our country. We are all agreed, from end to
end of society, that Truthfulness, Integrity, Courage, Purity,
Industry, Benevolence, and a spirit of Reverence for sacred
things are inexpressibly desirable and excellent. But when it
comes to the question of the degree of these good things which
it is desirable to attain, we find the difference between the

HOW TO EXPECT.

opinion of the many and that of the higher few. A being who
had these qualities in the highest degree could not get on in our
existing society without coming into conflict with our law of
Opinion at almost every step. If he were perfectly truthful, he
must say and do things in the course of his business which
would make him wondered at and disliked ; he might be un-
able to take an oath, or enter into any sort of vow, or sell his
goods prosperously, or keep on good terms with bad neigh-
bours. If he were perfecdy honourable and generous, he might
find it impossible to trade or labour on the competitive principle,
and might thus find himself helpless and despised among a
busy and wealth-gathering society. If he were perfectly coura-
geous, he might find himself spurned for cowardice in declining
to go to war or fight a duel. If he were perfectly pure, he
might find himself rebuked and pitied for avoiding a mercenary
marriage, and entering upon one which brings with it no advan-
tage of connexion or money. If the same purity should lead
him to see that though the virtue of chastity cannot be overrated,
it has, for low purposes, been made so prominent as to interfere
with others quite as important: if he should see how thus a
large proportion of the girlhood of England is plunged into sin
and shame, and then excluded from all justice and mercy ; if,
seeing this, he is just and merciful to the fallen, it is probable
that his own respectability will be impeached, and that some
stain of impurity will be upon his name. If he is perfectly
industrious, strenuously employing his various faculties upon
important objects, he will be called an idler in comparison wTith
those who work in only one narrow track ; as an eminent
author of our time was accused by the housemaid, who was
for ever dusting the house, of " wasting his time a- writing and
reading so much." Just so the majority of men who have one
sort of work to do accuse him of idleness who has more direc-
tions for his industry than they can comprehend. If he is
perfectly benevolent, he cannot hope to be considered a prudent,
orderly, quiet member of society. He will be either incessantly
spreading himself abroad, and spending himself in the service

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

of all about him, or maturing in retirement some plan of recti-
fication which will be troublesome to existing interests. If he
be perfectly reverent in soul, looking up to the loftiest subjects
of human contemplation with an awe too deep and true to
admit any mixture of either levity or superstition, he will pro-
bably be called an infidel ; or, at least, a dangerous person, for
not passively accepting the sayings of men instead of searching
out the truth by the faithful use of his own powers.

Thus we see how in our own, as in every other society, the
law of Opinion as to what men should be agrees in the large,
general points of character with the ideas of the wisest, while
there are great differences in the practical management of men's
lives. The perplexity to many thoughtful parents is what to
wish and aim at.

Now, it must never be forgotten that it is a good thing that
there must every where be such a law of Opinion on this sub-
ject, though it necessarily falls below the estimate of the wisest.
Some rule and method in the rearing of human beings there
must be ; and if some are dwTarfed under it, many more have a
better chance than they would have if it were not a settled
matter that truth, courage, benevolence, &c, are good things.
Till the constitution and training of the human being are better
and more extensively understood than they are, the general
rule is something to go by, as the product of a general instinct ;
and it will work upon nearly all those who are born under it,
so as to bring them into something like order. In our country,
there is, I suppose, scarcely a den so dark as that its inhabitants
really think no harm whatever of lying and stealing, or consider
them merits, as is the case in some parts of the world. While
we have among us far too many who thieve, and cheat, and
quarrel, and drink, we can scarcely meet with any w7ho do not
think these things wrong, or have not thought so before they
were too far gone in them. On the whole, the law of Opinion,
though far below what the wise see it might be, is a great
benefit, and a thing worthy of serious regard in fixing our edu-
cational aims.

HOW TO EXPECT.

This prevalent opinion being a good thing as far as it goes,
having its origin in nature, there can be no doubt that a good
education, having also its origin in nature, would issue in a
sufficient accordance with it for purposes of social happiness.
As human beings are born with limbs and senses whose thorough
exercise brings them out in a high state of bodily perfection,
they are born with powers of the brain which, thoroughly exer-
cised, would, in like manner, bring them out as great, mentally
and morally, as their constitution enables them to be. There
must ever be innumerable varieties, as no two infants could
ever be said to be born perfectly alike ; and perhaps no two
adults could be found who had precisely the same powers of
limb and sense : but out of this infinite variety must come such
an amount of evidence as to what is best in human character
as would constitute a law of Opinion, higher than the present,
but agreeing with it in its main points. Let us conceive of
a county of England where every inhabitant should be not only
saved from ignorance, but having every power of body and
mind made the very most of. The variety would appear much
greater than any thing we now see. There would be more
people decidedly musical, or decidedly mechanical, or decid-
edly scientific : more who would occupy their lives with works
of benevolence, or of art, or of ingenuity : more who would
speculate boldly, speak eloquently, and show openly their high
opinion of themselves, or their anxiety for the good opinion of
others. The more variety and the greater strength of powers,
the clearer would be the evidence before all eyes of what is
really the most to be desired for men. It would come out
more plainly than now that it is a bad and unhappy thing for
men to have immoderate desires for money, or luxury, or fame,
or to have quarrelsome tendencies, or to be subject to distrust
and jealousy of others, or to be afraid of pain of body or mind.
It would be more plain than ever that there is a soulfelt charm
and nobleness and happiness in a spirit of reverence, of justice,
of charity, of domestic attachment, and of devotion to truth.
Thus, in such a society, there would be an agreement, more

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

clear and strong than now, in all the blest points of our present
law of Opinion, while there would be fuller scope for carrying
up the highest qualities of the human being to their perfection.

Moreover, as men are made every where with a general like-
ness of the powers of the mind, as with the same number of
limbs and senses, there must come out of a thorough exercise
of their faculties a sufficient agreement as to what is best to
generate a universal idea of duty or moral good. No varieties
of endowment can interfere essentially with this result. The
Hindoo has slender arms, with soft muscles, and cannot do
the hard work which suits the German peasant ; yet both agree
as to what arms are for, and how they are to be used. The
Red Indian can see, hear, smell, and taste twice as well as
factory children or ploughboys ; yet all will agree that it is a
good thing to have perfect sight and hearing. And, in the
same way, the African may have less power of thought than
the Englishman; and the Englishman may have less genius for
music than the African ; but not only is the African able to
think, more or less, and the Englishman to enjoy music, but
they will agree that it is a good thing to have the highest power
of thought, and the greatest genius for music. In the same
manner, again, one race, as well as one individual, may have
more power of reverence, another of love, another of self-reli-
ance ; but all will agree that all these are inestimably good.

It follows from this, that parents must be safe in aiming at
thoroughly exercising and training all the powers of a child.
If it would be safest for all to do so, in the certainty that the
result would be in accordance with the best points of the law
of Opinion, it must be a safe practice for individuals ; and they
may proceed in the faith that their work (if they do it well)
will turn out a noble one in the eyes of the men of their day,
while they are doing their best to help on a clearer and brighter
day, when the law of Opinion will itself be greatly ennobled.

Here I must end my chapter. But I must just say a word
to guard against any hasty supposition that when I speak of
exercising (as well as training) all the human powers thoroughly,

THE GOLDEN MEAN.

I contemplate any indulgence of strong passions or of evil
inclinations. It cannot be too carefully remembered that what
I am speaking of is human Powers or Faculties ; and that
every power which a human being possesses may be exercised
to good, and is actually necessary to make him perfect.

It will be my business hereafter to show wThat this exercise
and training should be.

CHAPTER V.

THE GOLDEN MEAN.

Lt is a large subject that we have to treat, — that of household
education ; for the main part of every process of education is
carried on at home, except in the instance of boarding-schools,
where a few years are spent by a small number of the youth of
our country. The queen was brought up under a method of
household education, and so was, no doubt, the last pauper
who went to his grave in a wrorkhouse coffin. Elizabeth Fry
was brought up at home ; so was the most ignorant and brutish
convict that was blessed by the saving light of her pitying eye.
Sir Isaac Newton, to whom the starry heavens were as a home-
field for intellectual exercises, was reared at home ; and so were
the poor children in the Durham coal-pits in our own time,
who never heard of God, and indeed could not tell the names
of their own fathers and mothers. If thus, the loftiest and the
lowliest, the purest and the most criminal, the wisest and the
most ignorant, are comprehended under the process of house-
hold education, what a wide and serious subject it is that we
have to consider !

The royal child must,.of course, be trained wholly at home;
that is, little princes and princesses cannot be sent to school.
But, while reared in the house with their parents, the influences

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

they are under scarcely agree with our ideas of home. The
royal infant does not receive its food from the bosom first, or
afterwards from the hands of its mother. She does not wash
and dress it ; and those sweet seasons are lost which in humbler
homes are so rich in caresses and play, so fruitful in endearing
influences to both mother and child. It is a thing to be
remarked and praised by a whole court, if not a whole king-
dom, if a royal mother is seen with her child in her arms ;
while the cottager's child is blessed with countless embraces
between morning and night, and sleeps on its mother's arm,
or within reach of her eye and voice. The best trained royal
child is disciplined to command of temper and manners; made
to do little services for people about him, and sedulously taught
that a child should be humble and docile. But the young
creature is all the while taught stronger lessons by circum-
stances than can ever come through human lips. He sees that
a number of grown persons about him are almost wholly occu-
pied with him, and that it is their business in life to induce
him to command his temper and manners. He feels that when
he is bid to fetch and carry, or to do any other little service,
it is not because such service is wanted, but for the sake of the
training to himself. He is aware that all that concerns him every
day is a matter of arrangement, and not of necessity ; and a want
of earnestness and of steady purpose is an inevitable conse-
quence. This want of natural stimulus goes into his studies.
I believe no solitary child gets on well with book-learning as
a part of the business of every day. The best tutors, the best
books, the quietest school-room, will not avail, if the child's
mind be not stirred and interested by something more congenial
than the grammar and sums and maps he has to study. And
every royal child is solitary, however many brothers and sisters
he may have older and younger than himself. He has his own
servants, his own tutor, his own separate place and people, so
that he can never be jostled among other children, or lead the
true life of childhood. And so proceeds the education of life
for him. He can never live amidst a large class of equals,

THE GOLDEX MEAN.

with whom he can measure his powers, and from among whom
he may select congenial friends. He passes his life in the
presence of servants, has no occupations and no objects actually
appointed to him, unless his state be that of sovereignty, in
which case his position is more unfavourable still. He dies at
last in the midst of that habitual solitude which disables him
from conceiving, even at such a moment, of the state in which
" rich and poor lie down together." Such a being may, if
the utmost has been done for him, be decent in his habits,
amiable in temper and manners, innocent in his pursuits, and
religious in his feelings ; but it is inconceivable that he can
ever approach to our idea of a perfect man, with an intellect
fully exercised, affections thoroughly disciplined, and every
faculty educated by those influences which arise only from
equal intercourse with men at large.

The home education of the pauper child is no better, though
there are few who would venture to say how much worse it is.
A pauper child must (I think we may say) be unfortunate in
its parentage, in one way or another. If it knows its pa-
rents, they must probably be either sickly, or foolish, or idle,
or dissolute ; or they would not be in a state of permanent
pauperism. The infant is reared (if not in the workhouse) in
some unwholesome room or cellar, amidst damp and dirt, and
the noises and sights of vice or folly. He is badly nursed and
fed, and grows up feeble, or in a state of bodily uneasiness
which worries his temper, and makes his passions excitable.
He is not soothed by the constant tenderness of a decent mo-
ther, who feels it a great duty to make him as good and happy
as she can, and contrives to find time and thought for that ob-
ject. He tumbles in the dust of the road or the mud of the
gutter, snatches food wherever he can get it, quarrels with
anybody who thwarts him if he be a bold boy, and sneaks and
lies if he be naturally a coward. He indulges every appetite,
as a matter of course, as it arises : for he has no idea that he
should not. He hates everybody who interferes with his
license, and has the best liking for those who use the same

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

license with himself. He knows nothing of any place or peo-
ple but those he sees, and never dreams of any world beyond
that of his own eyes. He does not know what society is, or
law, or duty: and, therefore, when he injures society, and
comes under the inflictions of the law, for gross violations of
duty, he understands no more of what is done to him than if
he was carried through certain ceremonies conducted in an un-
known tongue. He has some dim notion of glory in dying
boldly before the eyes of the crowd ; so he goes to the gal-
lows in a mocking mood, as ignorant of the true import of
life and human faculties as the day he was born. Or, if not
laid hold of by the law, he goes on towards his grave brawling
and drinking, or half asleep in mind, and inert or diseased in
body, till, at last, he dies as the beast dies.

Here are the two extremes. The condition about half way
between them appears to me to be the most favourable, on the
whole, for making the most of a human being, and best fulfill-
ing the purposes of his life. There are stations above and
below highly favourable to the attainment of excellence ; but,
taking in all considerations, I think the position of the well-
conditioned artisan the most favourable that society affords, at
least, in our own day.

There is much good in enlarged book-learning ; in what is
commonly called a liberal education. If united with hard and
imperative labour — labour at once of head and hands — it will
help to make a nobler man than can be made without it ; but
a liberal education, enlarged book-learning, ordinarily leads to
only head work, without that labour of the hands which is the
way to much wisdom: The benefits, too, are much confined
to the individual, so that the children of the wisest statesman,
or physician, or lawyer, are only accidentally, if at all, the
better for his advantages ; while, the best circumstances in the
lot of the well-conditioned artisan are the inheritance and the
privilege of his children.

And again, the labourer may be so placed, in regard to em-
ployment, marriage, and abode, as that he may, possessing an

THE GOLDEN MEAN.

awakened mind, be for ever learning great and interesting
things from the Book of Nature and of Scripture, while he has
comfort in his home, and some leisure for training his children
to his own work, and whatever else may turn up, so that they
may grow up intelligent, dutiful, affectionate, and able conti-
nually to improve. The surgeon, the manufacturer, and the
shopkeeper, on the one hand, and the street porter, the opera-
tive, and the labourer, on the other, may well work out the
true purposes of life ; but the condition which appears to me
to be the meeting point of the greatest number of good influ-
ences is that of the best order of artisans.

That condition affords the meeting point of book-knowledge,
and that which is derived from personal experience. Every
day's labour of hand and eye is a page opened in the best of
books — the universe. When duly done, this lesson leaves
time for the other method of instruction, by books. During
the day hours, the earnest pupil learns of Nature by the les-
sons she gives in the melting fire, the rushing water, the un-
seen wind, the plastic metal or clay, the variegated wood or
marble, the delicate cotton, silk, or wool ; and at evening he
learns of men — of the wise and genial men who have deli-
vered the best parts of their minds in books, and made of
them a sort of ethereal vehicle, in which they can come at a
call to visit any secret mind which desires communion with
them. And this privilege of double instruction is one which
extends to the whole household of the chief pupil. The chil-
dren of the artisan are happily appointed, without room for
doubt, to toil like their father ; and there is every probability
that they will share his opportunity and his respect for book-
knowledge. At the outset of life, they are tended by their
mother, owing directly to her their food and clothes, their lul-
laby and their incitement to play. During the day, they are
under her eye ; and in the evening they sit on their father's
knee, and get knowledge or fun from him. In their busy
home, all the help is needed that every one can give ; so the
real business of life begins early, and with it the most natural

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

and best discipline. The children learn that it is an honour to
be useful, and a comfort and blessing to be neat and industri-
ous. So much more energy is naturally put into what must be
done than into what it is merely expedient should be done, that
the children are likely to exert their once-roused faculties to
much better purpose than if their business was appointed to
them for their own educational benefit. The little girl who
tends the baby, or helps granny, or makes father's shirt, or
learns to cook the dinner, is likely to put more mind into her
work than if she were set to mark a sampler or make a doll's
frock for the sake of learning to sew. And so with the boy
who carries the coals for his mother, or helps his father in the
workshop: he will become manly earlier and more naturally
than the highborn child who sees no higher sanction for his
occupations than the authority of his parents. And how dearly
prized are the opportunities for book-study which can be se-
cured ! The children see what a privilege and recreation
reading is to their father ; and they grow up with a reverence
and love for that great resource. The hope and expectation
carry them through the tedious work of the alphabet and pot-
hooks. And, as they grow up, they are admitted to the mag-
nificent privilege of fireside intercourse with the holy Milton
and the glorious Shakspeare, and many a sage whose best
thoughts may become their ideas of every day. They thus
obtain that activity and enlargement of mind which render all
employments and all events educational. The powers, once
roused and set to work, find occupation and material in every
event of life. Every thing serves — the daily handicraft, inter-
course with the neighbours, rumours from the world without,
homely duties, books, worship, the face of the country, or the
action of the town. All these incitements, all this material,
are offered to the thoughtful artisan more fully and impartially
than to such below and above him as are hedged in by igno-
rance or by aristocratic seclusion : and therein is his condition
better than theirs. After having come to this conclusion, it is
no small satisfaction to remember that the most favoured

THE NEW COMER.

classes are the most numerous. So great a multitude is in-
cluded in the middle classes, compared with the highborn and
the degraded, that if they who have the best chance for wis-
dom will but use their privilege, the highest hopes for society
are the most reasonable.

CHAPTER VI.

THE NEW COMER.

We may be perverse in our notions, and mistaken in our
ways ; but there are some great natural blessings which we
cannot refuse. I reckon it a great natural blessing that the
main events of human life are common to all, and that it is
out of the power of man to spoil the privilege and pleasure of
them. Birth, love, and death, are beyond the reach of man's
perverseness. They come differently to the wise and the foolish,
the wicked and the pure : but they come alike to the rich and
the poor. The infant finds as warm a bosom in which to nestle
in the cottage as in the mansion. The bride and bridegroom
know the bliss of being all the world to each other, as well in
their Sunday walk in the fields as in the park of a royal castle.
And when the mourners stand within the enclosure where
"rich and poor lie down together," death is the same sad and
sweet mystery to all the children of mortality, whether they be
elsewhere the lowly or the proud.

It may be said, that the coming of the infant is not the same
event to all, because some very poor people are heard to speak
of it as a misfortune, and if the child dies, to rejoice that the
Lord has taken it to himself. It is true that some parents are
heard to speak in this way ; but I believe that the difference
here is not between rich and poor, but between the wise and
the foolish, — the trusting and the faithless. I have a right to

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATIOX.

believe this as long as I see that the hardest-working mother
can be as tender and as cheerful as any other, and that the
poorest man can be as conscientious a father as the richest.
If the parents have been guilty of no fault towards their un-
born child ; if the child be the offspring of healthful and vir-
tuous parents ; and if they are calmly resolved to do all in their
power for its good, — to earn its bread, to cherish its health, to
open its mind, to nourish its soul, they have as good a right to
rejoice in the prospect of its birth as anybody in the world.
If they steadily purpose to do their full duty by their child, they
may rely upon it that all the powers of nature will help them ; —
that in a world wrapped round with sweet air, and blessed
by sunshine, and abounding with knowledge, the human being
can hardly fail of the best ends of life, if set fairly forth on his
way by those who are all to him in his helpless years. A
doubt of this may be pardoned in parents too hard driven by
adversity, who have lost heart, and think that to be poor is to
be miserable : but the doubt is not reasonable or religious ;
and it is likely to be fatal to the child. I need not consider it
further : for I write for those who have a high purpose and a
high hope in rearing children. Those who despond are unfit
for the charge, and are not likely to enter into any consultation
about it.

To all who have this high purpose and hope, how interest-
ing and how holy is this expectation of the birth of a human
being! The mother is happy, and can wait. The father thinks
the time long till he can take his infant in his arms, and lavish
his love upon it. If there are already children, they are or
should be made happy by some promise of the new blessing to
come. A serious hope it should be made to them, however
joyful : a hope to be spoken of only in private seasons of con-
fidence, when parents and children speak to each other of what
they feel most deeply, — by the bedsides of the little ones at
night, or in the quietest time of the Sunday holiday. A serious
hope it should be to all parties ; for they should bring into the
consideration the duties of labour and self-denial which lie

THE NEW COMER.

before them, and the seasons of anxiety which they must un-
dergo. Before the parents lie sleepless nights, after days of
hard work, — hours and hours of that weary suffering which
arises from the wailing of a sick infant : and before the entire
household the duty of those self-restraints which are ever due
from the stronger to the weaker. Amidst the anticipated joys
of an infant's presence, these things are not to be forgotten.

When the child is born, what an event is it in the education
of the whole household ! According to the use made of it is it
a pure blessing, or a cause of pain and sin to some concerned.
If it be the first child, there is danger lest it be too engrossing
to the young mother. I believe it happens oftener than any
body knows, that the first conjugal discontents follow on the
birth of the first child. The young mother trusts too much to
her husband's interest in her new treasure being equal to her
own : — a thing which the constitution of man's nature, and the
arrangements of his business, render impossible. He will love
his infant dearly, and sacrifice much for it if he remains, as he
ought, his wife's first object. But if she neglects his comfort
to indulge in fondling her infant, she is doing wrong to both.
If her husband no longer finds, on his return from his busi-
ness, a clean and quiet fireside, and a wife eager to welcome
him, but a litter of baby-things, and a wife too busy upstairs
to come down, or too much engaged with her infant to talk with
him and make him comfortable, there is a mischief done which
can never be repaired.

And if this infant be not the first, there is another person to
be no less carefully considered,— -the next youngest. I was
early struck by hearing the mother of a large family say, that
her pet was always the youngest but one ; it was so hard to
cease to be the baby! Little children are as jealous of affection
as the most enraptured lover ; and they are too young to have
learned to control their passions, and to be reasonable. A more
miserable being can hardly exist than a little creature who,
having been accustomed to the tenderness always lavished on
the baby, — having spent almost its whole life in its mother's

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

arms, and been the first to be greeted on its father's entrance,
finds itself bid to sit on its little stool, or turned over to the
maid, or to rough brothers and sisters to be taken care of,
while everybody gathers round the baby, to admire and love
it. Angry and jealous feelings may grow into dreadful pas-
sions in that little breast, if great care be not taken to smooth
over the rough passage from babyhood to childhood. If the
mother would have this child love and not hate the baby, if
she would have peace and not tempest reign in the little heart,
she will be very watchful. She will have her eye on the little
creature, and call it to help her to take care of the baby. She
will keep it at her knee, and show it, with many a tender kiss
between, how to make baby smile, how to warm baby's feet;
will let it taste whether baby's food be nice, and then peep into
the cradle, to see whether baby be asleep. And when baby
is asleep, the mother will open her arms to the little helper,
and fondle it as of old, and let it be all in all to her, as it used
to be. This is a great piece of education to them both, and a
lesson in justice to all who stand by.

The addition of a child to the family circle is an event too
solemn to be deformed by any falsehood. But few parents
have the courage to be truthful with their children as to how
the infant comes ; a question which their natural curiosity al-
ways prompts. The deceptions usually practised are altogether
to be reprobated. It is an abominable practice to tell children
that the doctor brought the baby, and the like. It is abomina-
ble as a lie : and it is worse than useless. Any intelligent child
will go on to ask, — or if not to ask, to ponder with excited
imagination, — where the doctor found it, and so on ; and its
attention will be piqued, and its mind injuriously set to work,
where a few serious words of simple but carefully expressed
truth, would have satisfied it entirely. The child must, sooner
or later, awaken to an understanding of the subject ; and it is
no more difficult to impress him with a sense of decency about
this, than about other things, that a well trained child never
speaks of, but to its mother in private. The natural question

THE NEW COMER.

once truthfully answered, the little mind is at rest, and free for
the much stronger interests which are passing before its eyes.

The first month of an infant's life is usually a season of great
moral enjoyment to the household. Everybody is disposed to
bear and to do everything cheerfully for the sake of the new
blessing. The father does not mind the discomforts of the time
of his wife's absence from the table and the fireside, and makes
himself by turns the nurse and the playfellow, to carry the
children well through it. If Granny be there, and not able to
do much in the house, she gathers the little ones about her
chair, and tells them longer stories than ever before, to keep
them quiet. The children try with all their might to be quiet ;
and even the little two-year-old one struggles not to cry for
company when baby cries, and learns a lesson in self-restraint.
They look with respect on the maid or the nurse when they
find that she has been up in the night, tending mother and baby,
and that she looks as cheerful in the morning as if she had had
good rest. And when they are permitted to study the baby,
and to see how it jerks its little limbs about, and does not see
anything they want it to see, and takes no notice of anything
they say to it ; and when they hear that their great strong father,
so wise and so clever about his business, was once just such a
helpless little creature as this, they learn to reverence this feeble
infant, and one another, and themselves, and their hearts are
very full of feelings which they cannot speak. I well remem-
ber that the strongest feelings I ever entertained towards any
human being were towards a sister born when I was nine years
old. I doubt whether any event in my life ever exerted so
strong an educational influence over me as her birth. The
emotions excited in me were overwhelming for above two
years ; and I recal them as vividly as ever now, when I see
her with a child of her own in her arms. I threw myself on
my knees many times in a day, to thank God that he permitted
me to see the growth of a human being from the beginning. I
leaped from my bed gaily every morning as this thought beamed
upon me with the morning light. I learnt all my lessons with-

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

out missing a word for many months, that I might be worthy
to watch her in the nursery during my play-hours. I used to
sit on a stool opposite to her as she was asleep, with a Bible
on my knees, trying to make out how a creature like this might
rise from " strength to strength," till it became like Christ.
My great pain was, (and it was truly at times a despair,) to
think what a work lay before this thoughtless little being. I
could not see how she was to learn to walk with such soft and
pretty limbs : but the talking was the despair. I fancied that
she would have to learn every word separately, as I learned
my French vocabulary ; and I looked at the big Johnson's
Dictionary till I could not bear to think about it. If I, at nine
years old, found it so hard to learn through a small book like
that Vocabulary, what would it be to her to begin at two years
old such a big one as that ! Many a time I feared that she never
could possibly learn to speak. And when I thought of all the
trees and plants, and all the stars, and all the human faces she
must learn, to say nothing of lessons, — I was dreadfully op-
pressed, and almost wished she had never been born. Then
followed the relief of finding that walking came of itself —
step by step ; and then, that talking came of itself — word by
word at first, and then many new words in a day. Never did
I feel a relief like this, when the dread of this mighty task was
changed into amusement at her funny use of words, and droll
mistakes about them. This taught me the lesson, never since
forgotten, that a way always lies open before us, for all that it
is necessary for us to do, however impossible and terrible it
may appear beforehand. I felt that if an infant could learn to
speak, nothing is to be despaired of from human powers, ex-
erted according to Nature's laws. Then followed the anguish
of her childish illnesses — the misery of her wailing after vac-
cination, when I could neither bear to stay in the nursery nor
to keep away from her ; and the terror of the back-stairs, and
of her falls, when she found her feet ; and the joy of her glee
when she first knew the sunshine, and the flowers, and the
opening spring ; and the shame if she did anything rude, and

CARE OF THE FRAME. 39

the glory when she did anything right and sweet. The early
life of that child was to me a long course of intense emotions
which, I am certain, have constituted the most important part
of my education. I speak openly of them here, because I am
bound to tell the best I know about Household Education ;
and on that, as on most subjects, the best we have to tell is
our own experience. And I tell it the more readily because I
am certain that my parents had scarcely any idea of the pas-
sions and emotions that were working within me, through my
own unconsciousness of them at the time, and the natural mo-
desty which makes children conceal the strongest and deepest
of their feelings : and it may be well to give parents a hint that
more is passing in the hearts of their children, on occasion of
the gift of a new soul to the family circle, than the ingenuous
mind can recognise for itself, or knows how to confide.

CHAPTER VII.

CARE OF THE FRAME.

We have seen something of the influence of the infant
upon others : now let us see what others can do for it.

Here is a little creature, containing within itself the germs
of all those powers wThich have before been described ; but
with all these powers in so feeble a state that months and years
of nourishing and cherishing under the influences of Nature
are necessary to give it the use of its own powers. What its
parents can do for it, and all that they can do for it, is to take
care that it has the full advantage of the influences of Nature.
This is their task. They cannot get beyond it, and they ought
not to fall short of it.

Nature requires and provides that the tender frame should
be nourished with food, air, warmth, and light, sleep and exer-

40 HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

cise. All these being given to it, the soft bones will grow
hard, the weak muscles will grow firm ; the eye will become
strong to see, and the ear to hear, and the different portions of
the brain to feel, and apprehend, and think ; and to form pur-
poses, and to cause action, till the helpless infant becomes a
self-acting child, and is on the way to become a rational man.
What the parents have to do, is to take care that the babe has
the best of food, air, warmth and light, sleep and exercise.

First, of food. About this there is no possible doubt. The
mother's milk is the best of food. What the mother has to
look to is that her milk is of the best. She must preserve her
own health by wholesome diet, air, and exercise, and by keep-
ing a gentle and cheerful temper. Many a babe has had con-
vulsions after being suckled by a nurse who had had a great
fright, or who had been in a great passion : and a mother who
has an irritable or anxious temper, who flushes or trembles
with anger, or has her heart in her throat from fear of this or
that, will not find her child thrive upon her milk, but will have
much to suffer from its illness or its fretfulness. She must try,
however busy she may be, to give it its food pretty regularly,
that its stomach may not be overloaded, nor long empty, or
craving. An infant does not refuse food when it has had
enough, as grown people do. It will stop crying and suck,
when its crying is from some other cause than hunger: and it
will afterwards cry all the more if an overloaded stomach is
added to the other evil, whatever it may be. Of the contrary
mischief — leaving a babe too long hungry — there is no need to
say anything. And when the weaning time comes, it is plain
that the food should be at first as like as possible to that which
is given up ; thin, smooth, moderately warm, fresh and sweet,
and given as leisurely as the mother's milk is drawn. It is
well known that milk contains, more curiously than any
other article of food, whatever is necessary for nourishing all
the parts of the human body. It contains that which goes to
form and strengthen the bones, and that which goes to make
and enrich the blood — thereby causing the soft bones of the

CARE OP THE FRAME.

babe to grow stiff and strong, and its heart to beat healthily,
and its lungs to play vigorously, and its muscles to thicken and
become firm. While all this is going on well, and the child
shows no need of other food, there is nothing but mischief to
be looked for from giving it a variety for which it is not prepared.
Milk, flour and water are its natural food while it has no teeth
to eat meat with, and vegetables turn sour on its stomach. As
for giving it a bit or sip of what grown persons are eating and
drinking — that is a practice too ignorant to need to be men-
tioned here.

Next comes air. Here, as usual, we have to consult Nature.
There is an ingredient in the air which is as necessary to sup-
port human breathing as to feed the flame of a candle. Where
there is too little of it, the flame of a candle burns dim ; and
where it is not freely supplied to a human frame, it languishes,
and pines and sickens. A constant supply of pure air there
must therefore be. If the house is close, if the room is too
long shut up, with people in it who are using up that ingredient
of the air, they will all, and especially the babe, languish and
pine and sicken. Every morning, therefore, and during the
day, there must be plenty of fresh air let in to replace that
which has been spoiled by breathing ; and in fine weather, the
babe should be carried into the open air every day. But Nature
also points out that we must avoid extremes in giving the child
air, as well as food. We see sometimes how a babe grows
black in the face if carried with its face to the wind, or whisked
down stairs in a draught. - Its lungs are small and tender, like
the rest of it, and can bear even fresh air only when moderately
given. By a little care in turning its face away from the wind,
or lightly covering its head, a child may be saved from being
half strangled by a breeze out of doors ; while care will, of
course, be taken within doors to keep it out of the direct draught
from door or window.

As for light — we do not yet know so much as we ought
about the relation of light and the human frame. I believe
some curious secrets remain to be discovered about that. But

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

we do know this much — that people who live in dark places,
prisoners in dungeons, and very poor people in cellars, and
savages in caves who do not go abroad much, are not only
less healthy than others, but have peculiar diseases which are
distinctly traceable to deficiency of light. My own conviction
is that we grown people can hardly have too much light in our
houses ; and that we are, somehow7 or other, alive almost in
proportion to the sunshine we live in. But we must observe,
at the same time, the difference which Nature makes between
the infant and adults. The infant's eyes are wreak, and its
brain tender ; so that, while there is plenty of light about its
body, we must take care that there is not too much directly
before its eyes. If held opposite a strong sunshine, it will
squint if it does not cry, or by some means show that the light
is too much for its tender brain.

As to warmth — everybody knows that a babe cannot have
that constant warmth which is kept up in older persons by con-
stant activity. Its little feet require frequent warm handling ;
and its lips often look blue when everybody else in the room is
warm enough. By gentle chafing and warming it must be kept
comfortable during the day, without being shut up in a hot
room, or scorched before the fire. As for the night — its
warmth should be secured by sufficient clothing, in a little bed
of its own, as early as possible, rather than by lying with its
mother, which is far too common a practice. It may be neces-
sary, in extremely cold weather, to take the child into bed for
warmth ; but even then, the mother should not sleep till she
has put it back, warm and wrell covered, into its own bed. I
need say nothing of the horror wTe feel when, every now and
then, we hear of a miserable mother whose child has been over-
laid. That accident happens oftener than many people know
of. But, besides that danger, the practice is a bad one. The
child breathes air already breathed ; it soaks in the prespiration
of its mother. If its state is healthful, its natural sleep will
keep it warm, supposing its bedding to be sufficient ; while it
is likely to be too hot, and not to breathe healthfully, if laid

CARE OF THE FRAME.

close by another person. In all seasons, its clothing should be
loose enough to allow of a free play of its limbs, and of all the
movements within its body — the beating of the heart, the
heaving of the lungs, and the rolling of the bowels, to go on
quite naturally. By careful management, an infant may be kept
in a state of natural warmth, night and day, through winter
and summer ; as every sensible mother knows.

The little frame must be exercised. Every human function
depends on exercise for its growth^and perfection. A person
who lives almost in the dark has little use of his eyes when he
comes into the light ; an arm hung in a sling becomes weak,
and at last useless ; a talent for arithmetic or music becomes
feebler continually from disuse. To make the most, there-
fore, of the frame of a human being, it must be exercised —
some of its powers from the beginning, and all in their natural
order. We must take care, however, to observe what this na-
tural order is, or, judging by our present selves, we may attempt
too much. We must remember that the infant has to begin
from the beginning, and that its primary organs — the heart,
lun^s, and brain — have to become accustomed to moderate
exercise before anything further should be attempted. At first,
it is quite enough for the infant to be taken up and laid down,
washed and dressed, and carried about a little on the arm.
When the proper time comes, it will kick and crow, and reach
and handle, and look and listen. Its very crying, if only what
is natural to express its wants, is a good exercise of those parts
intended to be used afterwards in speaking and making child-
ish noises. Poor Laura Bridgman, the American girl, who
early lost both eyes and the inner parts of the ears, and cannot
hear, see, smell, or taste, and whose mind is yet developed by
means of the sense of touch, said a thing (said it by finger lan-
guage) which appears to me very touching and very instruct-
ive. Not being able to speak, she was formerly apt to use the
organs of speech in making odd noises, disagreeable to people
about her. When told of this, and encouraged to try to be
silent, she asked — " Why, then, has God given me so much

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

voice?" Her guardians took the hint, and gave her a place to
play in for some time every day, where she can make as much
noise as she likes — hearing none of it herself, but enjoying the
exercise of her organs of sound. What Laura does now, an
infant does by squalling, and children do by shouting and vo-
ciferating at their play. Their parents, it must be remembered,
are talking for many hours while they are asleep.

Other exercises follow in their natural course — the rolling and
tumbling about on a thickly wadded quilt on the floor (saving
the busy mother's time, while teaching the child the use of its
limbs) — feeling its feet on the lap, and learning to step, scram-
bling up and down by the leg of the table, pulling and throw-
ing things about, imitating sounds, till speech is attained —
these are the exercises which nature directs, and under which
the powers grow till the mother can see in her plaything the
sailor who may one day rock at the mast-head, or the stout
labourer who may trench the soil, or the gardener who will
name a thousand plants at a glance, or the teacher who will
bring out and train a hundred human intellects. What she has
to look to is that the powers of her child are all remembered
and considered, and exercised only in due degree and natural
order.

After exercise comes sleep. If all else go wrell, this will
too. If the child digest well, be warm, sufficiently fatigued
and not too much — in short, if it be comfortable in body, it
will sleep at proper times. One of the earliest pieces of edu-
cation— of training — is to induce a babe to sleep regularly, and
without the coaxing which consumes so much of the mother's
time, and encourages so much waywardness on the part of the
child. If a healthy child be early accustomed to a bed of its
own, and if it is laid down at a sleepy moment, while the room
is quiet, it will soon get into a habit of sleeping when laid
down regularly, in warmth and stillness, after being well washed
and satisfied with food. The process is natural ; and it would
happen easily enough if our ways did not interfere with Na-
ture. By a little care, a child may be attended to in the night

CARE OF THE POWERS: — "WILL.

without fully awakening it. By watching for its stirring, veil-
ing the light, being silent and quick, the little creature may be
on its pillow again without having quite waked up — to its own
and its mother's great advantage.

Cleanliness is the removal of all that is unwholesome. Na-
ture has made health dependent upon this, in the case of human
beings of every age : and the more eminently, the younger they
are. One great condition of an infant's welfare is the removal
of all discharges whatever, by careful cleansing of the delicate
skin in every crease and corner, every day ; and of all clothing
as soon as soiled. The perpetual washing of an infant's bibs,
&c, is a great trouble to a busy mother ; but less than to have
the child ill from the smell of a sour pinafore, or from wet un-
derclothes, or from a cap that holds the perspiration of a week's
nights and days. It is a thing which must be done — the keep-
ing all pure and sweet about the body of the little creature that
cannot help itself ; and its look of welfare amply repays the
trouble all the while. Such are the offices to be rendered to
the new-bom infant. They consist in allowing Nature scope
for her higher offices. By their faithful discharge, the human
being is prepared to become in due season all that he is made
capable of being — which may prove to be something higher
than we are at present aware of.

CHAPTER VIII.

CARE OF THE POWERS '. WILL.

While the bodily powers of the infant are nourished and
preserved by observing Nature, as pointed out in the last chap-
ter, the powers of the mind are growing from day to day.
When an infant has once been pleased with the glitter of the
sun upon the brass warming-pan, or with the sound of a rattle,

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

it will kick and shake its little arms, and look eager, the next
time it sees the rattle and the warming-pan. And having once
remembered, it will remember more every day. Every day it
will give signs of Hope and Desire. Will shows itself very
early. Fear has to be guarded against, and Love to be che-
rished, from the first days that mind appears. It is the highest
possible privilege to the child if the parents know how to ex-
ercise its power of conscience soon enough, so as to make it
sweet and natural to the young creature to do right from its
earliest days. Let us see how these things may be.

How strong is the Will of even a very young infant ! How
the little creature, if let alone, will labour and strive after any-
thing it has set its mind upon ! How it cries and struggles to
get the moon ; and tumbles about the floor, as soon as it can
sprawl, to accomplish any wish! And, if ill-trained, how per-
tinaciously it will refuse to do any thing it ought! How com-
pletely may the wills of a whole party of grown people be set
at nought by the self-will of a baby whose powers are allowed
to run riot ! It is exceedingly easy to mismanage such cases,
as we all see every day : but it is also very easy to render this
early power of Will a great blessing.

The commonest mistake is to indulge the child's self-will, as
the easiest course at the moment. Immediate peace and quiet
are sought by giving the child whatever it clamours for, and
letting it do whatever it likes in its own way. We need not
waste words on this tremendous mistake. Every body knows
what a spoiled child is ; and nobody pretends to stand up for
the method of its education. I think quite as ill of the opposite
mistake — of the method which goes by the name of breaking
the child's will; a method adopted by some really conscientious
parents because they think religion requires it. When I was
in America, I knew a gentleman who thought it his first duty
to break the wills of his children ; and he set about it zealously
and early. He was a clergyman, and the President of an Uni-
versity: the study of his life had been the nature and training
of the human mind ; and the following is the way he chose —

CARE OF THE POWERS : — WILL.

misled by a false and cruel religion of Fear — to subdue and
destroy the great faculty of Will. An infant of (I think) about
eleven months old was to be weaned. A piece of bread was
offered to the babe, and the babe turned away from it. Its
father said that it was necessary to break down the rebellious
will of every child for once; that if done early enough, once
would suffice ; and that it would be right and kind to take this
early occasion in the instance of this child. The child was
therefore to be compelled to eat the bread. A dressmaker in
the house saw the process go on through the whole day, and
became so dreadfully interested (hat she could not go away at
night till the matter was finished. Of course, the bit of bread
became more and more the subject of disgust, and then of terror
to the infant, the more it was forced upon its attention. Hours
of crying, shrieking and moaning were followed by its being
shut up in a closet. It was brought out by candlelight —
stretched helpless across the nurse's arms, its voice lost, its
eyes sunk and staring, its muscles shrunk, its appearance that
of a dying child. It was now near midnight. The bit of
bread was thrust into the powerless hand ; no resistance was
offered by the unconscious sufferer ; and the victory over the
evil powers of the flesh and the devil was declared to be gained.
The dressmaker went home, bursting with grief and indigna-
tion, and told the story : and when the President went abroad
the next morning, he found the red brick walls of the university
covered with chalk portraits of himself holding up a bit of bread
before his babe. The affair made so much noise that he was,
after some time, compelled to publish a justification of himself.
This justification amounted to what was well understood
throughout ; that he conscientiously believed it his duty to take
an early opportunity to break the child's will, for its own sake.
There remained for his readers the only wonder where he could
find in the book of Glad Tidings so cruel a contradiction of that
law of love which stands written on every parent's heart.

How much easier is the true and natural method for control-
ing the young Will ! Nature points out that the true method

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

is to control the Will, not by another person's Will, but by the
other faculties of the child itself. When the child wills what
is right and innocent, let the faculty work freely. When it wills
what is wrong and hurtful, appeal to other faculties, and let
this one sleep ; excite the child's attention ; engage its memory,
or its hope, or its affection. If the infant is bent on having
something that it ought not, put the forbidden object out of
sight, and amuse the child wTith something else. Avoid both
indulgence and opposition, and a habit of docility will be formed
by the time the child becomes capable of deliberate self-con-
trol. This natural method being followed, it is curious to see
how early the power of self-control maybe attained. I watched
one case of a child endowed with a strong Will who, well
trained, had great power of self-government before she could
speak plain. She was tenderly reared, and indulged in her
wishes whenever they were reasonable, and cheerfully amused
and helped whenever her desires wrere disappointed. One day
I had just begun to show her a bright new red pocket-book
full of pictures when she was called to her dinner. She did
not want her dinner, and begged to see the pocket-book ;
begged it once — twice — and was about to beg it a Ihird time,
when I ventured to put to the proof her power of self-denial.
I put the case before her as it appeared to me, fairly saying
that I could not show her the pocket-book till five in the after-
noon. Showing her what I thought the right of the matter, I
asked her whether she would now go to her dinner. She
stood, with the pocket-book in her hand, for some seconds in
deep thought ; then looked up at me with a bright face, said
graciously « I will put the gay plaything into my lap, and
ran off to her dinner. The looking forward till five o'clock
and the pleasure of that hour fixed the effort in her mind, and
made the next easier. It is clear that a child early subject to
oppression and opposition in matters of the Will could not
arrive thus betimes and naturally at self-government like this,
but must have many perverse and painful feelings to struggle
with, in addition to the necessary conflict with himself.

CARE OF THE POWERS '. WILL.

A parent who duly appreciates the great work that every
human being has to do in attaining self-government, will assist
the process from the very first, by the two great means in his
power — by the aid of Habit, and of a government of love
instead of fear. It is really due to the feebleness of a child to
give it the aid and support of habit in what it has to do and
avoid. By regularity in the acts of its little life, in its sleeping
and feeding, and walking and times of play, a world of conflict
and wilfulness is avoided, and the will is quietly trained, day
by day, to submission to circumstances ; life goes on with the
least possible wear and tear ; and a continually strengthening
power is obtained over all the faculties. Among the children
entering upon school life, and men and women upon any sphere
of duty whatever, a great difference as to efficiency will be
found between those who always have to bring their Will to
bear expressly on the business of the time, unaided by habit,
and those whose lives and powers have been, as one may say,
economized by their having lived under that discipline of time
and circumstance which is the gentle and natural education of
the human Will. It is true, this mechanical kind of discipline
can never be more than auxiliary. It can never stand in the
place of the deep internal principle by which alone the mightiest
movements of the human will are actuated. It can only hus-
band a man's powers for his ordinary duties, and not of itself
prepare him for the great crises of life. It can only aid him in
his every day course, and not strengthen him, when the ago-
nizing hour comes, to surrender love, and hope, and peace, at
the call of duty, or to encounter outrage and death for truth's
sake. But we are now considering the education of the infant
man ; man at that stage when our chief concern is with what-
ever is auxiliary to that great aim of perfection which lies far in
the future.

Above all things it is important that the parental administra-
tion should be one of love and not of fear. There can be no
healthful growth of the Will under the restraints of fear. The
fact is, the Will is not trained at all in any frightened person.

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

The actions may be conformed to the Will of the tyrant ; but
the Will is running riot in secret all the time — unless, indeed,
it be entirely crushed. But how vigorously it grows under a
government of love ! Look at the difference between a slave-
owner, whose people are driven by the lash, and an employer
whose people are ready to live and die for him : how languidly
and shabbily is the work done in the first case, and how heartily
and efficiently in the last! And it is with the young child as
with the grown man. A child who lives in the fear of punish-
ment has half its faculties absorbed by that fear, and becomes
a feeble little creature, incapable of governing itself ; while a
mere babe who is cheered and led on in its good efforts by
smiles of love and tones of tenderness becomes strong to govern
its passions, and to brush away its tears ; and patient to bear
pain; and brave to overcome difficulty; becomes blessed, in
short, with a healthful and virtuous Will. I know nothing
more touching than the efforts of self-government of which little
children are capable, when the best parts of their nature are
growing vigorously under the light and warmth of parental love.
Mrs. Wesley might pride herself on so breaking the wills of
her children by fear as that the youngest in arms learned im-
mediately "to cry softly;" but there was every danger that the
early cowed Will would sooner or later start up in desperate
rebellion, and claim a freedom which it would be wholly unable
to manage. How much safer, and how infinitely more beautiful
is the self-control of the little creature who stifles his sobs of
pain because his mother's pitying eye is upon him in tender
sorrow! or that of the babe who abstains from play, and sits
quietly on the floor because somebody is ill ; or that of a little
hero who will ask for physic if he feels himself ill, or for punish-
ment if he knows himself wrong, out of confidence in the tender
justice of the rule under which he lives ! I have known a very
young child slip over to the cold side of the bed on a winter's
night, that a grown-up sister might find a warm one. I have
known a boy in petticoats offer his precious new humming-top
to a beggar child. I have known a little girl submit sponta-

CARE OP THE POWERS '. HOPE.

neously to hours of irksome restraint and disagreeable employ-
ment merely because it was right. Such Wills as these — so
strong and yet so humble, so patient and so dignified — were
never impaired by fear, but nourished thus under the influence
of love, with its sweet incitements and holy supports.

CHAPTER IX.

CARE OF THE POWERS : — HOPE.

We have seen what power of Will a child has. But the Will
itself is put in action by Hope and Fear.

What is stronger in an infant than its capacity for Hope and
Fear? In its earliest and most unconscious stages of emotion,
how its little limbs quiver, and its countenance lights up at the
prospect of its food ! and how it turns away its face, or
wrinkles it up into a cry, at the sight of a strange countenance,
or unusual appearance of dress or place! And what stronger
hint can a parent have than this to look forward to what this
hope and fear may grow to ?

This great power of Hope must determine the leading features
of the character of the man or woman ; determine them for good
or evil according to the training of the power from this day
forward. Shall the man continue a child, or sink into the brute
by his objects of hope continuing to be what they are now —
food or drink? Shall his frame be always put into commotion
by the prospect of pleasant bodily sensations from eating and
drinking, and other animal gratifications? Or, when the child
arrives at hoping for his mother's smile and his father's praise,
shall he stop there, and live for admiration ; admiration of his
person and dress, his activity, or his cleverness? Shall the
gratification of his vanity be the chief interest of his life ? Or
shall it be ambition ? Shall his perpetual hope be of a higher

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION'.

sort of praise — praise from so large a number as shall give him
power over other men, and cause his name to be known beyond
his connexions, and his native place, in his country and his age ?
All this is very low and very small ; too little for the require-
ments of his nature, too little for the peace of his mind and the
happiness of his heart. Shall not rather this faculty of hope be
nourished up into Faith ? — faith which includes at once the ful-
ness of virtuous power and the peace which the world can
neither give nor take away. A being in whom the early faculty
of Hope has been matured into a steady power of Faith is of
the highest and happiest order of men, because the objects of
his hope are unchanging and everlasting, and they keep all his
best powers in strenuous action and in full health and strength.
"When the mother sees her infant in an ecstacy of hope, first at
the food making ready for him, and next at the gay flower
within his reach, and afterwards at the flattery of visitors, she
should remember that here is the faculty which may hereafter
lead and sustain him through days of hunger and nights of
watching, or years of toilsome obscurity, or scenes of the un-
thinking world's scorn, calm and peaceful in the furtherance of
the truth of God and the welfare of Man. And if her tender
heart shrinks from the anticipation of privation and contempt
such as have too often hitherto attended a life of faith, let her
remember that in the midst of the most prosperous life there can
be no peace but in proportion to the power of faith ; and that
therefore in training up this faculty of Hope to its highest exer-
cise she is providing most substantially for his happiness, be his
lot otherwise what it may.

How is this faculty to be trained ? —

First, it must be cherished. Some well-meaning parents re-
press and even extinguish it, from the notion that this is the
way to teach humility and self-denial. The consequence is
that they break the mainspring of action in the child's mind,
and everything comes to a stand. It is difficult to weaken the
power of hope in a human being, and harder still to break it
down ; but when the thing is done, what sadder spectacle can

CARE OF THE POWERS I — HOPE.

be seen ? Of all moving sights of woe, the most mournful is
that of a hopeless child. A single glance at its listless limbs,
its dull eye, its languid movements, shows the mischief that
has been done. The child is utterly unreliable ; a mere burden
upon the world. He has no truth, no love, no industry, no
intellectual power in him; and if he has any conscience, it is
the mere remains, — enough to trouble him, without doing him
any good. This is an extreme case, and I trust a rare one.
But cases of repressed hope are much more common than they
should be. There are too many children who are baulked of
their mother's sympathy because she is busy or fretfuJ, or of
their father's because he is stern. Too many little hearts are
made to swell in silence because they cannot get justice, or to
burn under the suspicion that their aspirations are despised.
After this, what can they do ? At best, they carry their confi-
dence elsewhere, and make their chief interests away from home ;
and it is too probable that they will give up their plans and as-
pirations, and sink down to lower hopes. A boy who aspires
to discover the North Pole, or to write a book which will teach
the world something greater than it ever knew before, will
presently sink down to be greedy after lollypops ; and a girl
who means to try whether a woman cannot be as good as Jesus
Christ, may presently be discouraged down to the point of
reckoning on Sunday because she is to have a new ribbon on
her bonnet. In the case of every human being, Hope is to be
cherished from first to last; not the hope of the particular thing
that the child has set its mind on, unless the thing itself be
good ; but the hopeful mood of mind. The busiest mother
can have nothing to do so important as satisfying her child's
heart by a word or look of sympathy : and the most anxious
father can have nothing so grave to occupy him as the peril he
puts his child into by plunging him into undeserved fear and
disappointment.

Hope is to be cherished without ceasing. But the objects
of hope must first be varied and then exalted, that the faculty
may be led on from strength to strength, till it is able to fix

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

its aims for itself. To the hope of good eating and drinking
must succeed that of clutching gay colours, of hearing mother
sing, of having play with father when he comes home ; then
of having a kitten or a doll to take care of ; then of parents'
praise for lessons or other work well done ; then of self-satis-
faction for bad habits cured : then there may be a great spring
forward to thoughts of glory ; — the glory of being a great sailor,
or magistrate, or author, or martyr: and at length, the hope of
doing great things for the good of mankind, and of becoming
a perfect man. As for times and opportunities of cherishing
and exahing hope — every hour is the right time, and every
day affords the opportunity. What is needed, is that the
parents should have the aim fixed in their hearts ; and then
their minds, and that of the child, will work towards it as by
an instinct. By natural impulse the mother's hand will bring
the gay flower, and the kitten or the doll before the child's
notice, if it becomes greedy about its food. By natural impulse
she will sing its favourite song, or beg play for it of its father
after some little virtuous effort of the child's ; in natural course,
all things in human life, great and small, will present themselves
in their heroic aspect to the minds of the parents, and be thus
represented to the mind of the child, if once the idea of the
future man be firmly associated with that of moral nobleness.
If they have in them faith enough steadily to desire for him
this moral nobleness above all things, there can be no fear but
that their aspiration will communicate itself to him ; and his
faculty of Hope will ripen into a power of Faith.

I have said nothing of a hope of reward as among the objects
of childhood. This is because I think rewards and punishments
seldom or never necessary in household education, while they
certainly bring great mischief after them. In some cases of
bad habit, and in a very early stage of education, they may be
desirable, here and there ; but as a system, I think rewards and
punishments bad. In the case of a very young child who has
fallen into a habit of crying at bedtime, or at any particular
time of day, or in that of a thoughtless, untidy child, where the

CARE OF THE POWERS : — HOPE.

object is to impress its memory, or to establish a strong associa-
tion with time or place, it may be useful to connect some
expectation of pain or pleasure with particular seasons or acts,
so as to make the infant remember the occasion for self-govern-
ment, and rouse its will to do right ; but this should be only
where the association of selfish pleasure or pain is likely to die
out with the bad habit, and never where such selfish pleasure
or pain can be associated with great permanent ideas and moral
feelings. A careless child may be allowed to earn a reward
for punctuality at meals, and for putting playthings and dress
in their proper places when done with, and for personal neat-
ness, during a specified time; and perhaps for the diligent
learning of irksome tasks : and there maybe some punishment,
declared and agreed upon beforehand, and steadily inflicted,
for any disagreeable personal habit, or any other external
instance of habitual thoughtlessness. But the greater moral
aims of the parent are too sacred to be mixed up with the direct
personal interests of the child. A child will hardly be nobly
truthful who dreads being whipped for a lie ; and benevolence
will be spoiled in its young beginnings, if any pleasure beyond
itself is looked for in its early exercise. A child who has
broken a plate, or gone astray for pleasure when sent on an
errand, must want confidence in his parents, and be more or
less cowardly if he denies the offence ; and he will not have
more truth or courage on the next occasion for being whipped
now. What he needs is to be made wiser about the blessed-
ness of truth and the horrors of falsehood, and more brave about
the pain of rebuke : and the whipping will not make him either
the one or the other. I remember being fond of a book in my
childhood which yet revolted me in one part. It told of the
children of a great family in France, who heard of the poverty
of a woman about to lie in, and who bought and made clothes
for herself and her infant. Their mother and grandmother
made a sort of festival of the giving of these clothes. The
children rode in procession on asses, carrying their gifts. One
tied her bundle with blue ribbon, and another with pink ; and

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

the whole village came out to see, when they alighted at the
poor woman's door. I used to blush with indignation over
this story; indignation on the poor woman's account, that her
pauperism was so exposed ; and on that of the children, that
they were not allowed the pure pleasure of helping a neighbour,
without being applauded at home and by a whole village for
what it gave them nothing but satisfaction to do. I am strongly
of opinion that when we duly understand and estimate man,
there will be no reward or punishment at all ; that human beings
will be so trained as to find their pleasure and pain in the
gratification or the abuse of their own highest faculties ; and that
in those days (however far off they may be) there will be no
treadwheels, no hulks, no gibbets; and no prize-giving, except
for feats of skill or activity. And meantime, I feel perfectly
sure that children under home-training maybe led to find such
gratification in the exercise of their higher intellectual and moral
faculties, as to feel the abuse of them more painful than any
punishment, and their action more pleasurable than any reward.
When we read of a Christian in the early ages who was brought
into the amphitheatre, and given the choice whether he would
declare Jupiter to be the supreme God, and enjoy life and
comfort, or avow himself a Christian, and be torn to pieces by
wild beasts the next minute, we feel that he could not say he
believed Jupiter to be God. Well: convince any child as fully
as this of the truth, and of his absolute need of fidelity to it,
and he can no more endure lapse from it than the Christian
could endure to declare Jupiter to be God. As the inveterate
drunkard must gratify his propensity to drink, at the cost of
any amount of personal and domestic misery; and as the miser
must go on adding to his stores of gold, even though he starves
himself into disease and death, so the upright man must satisfy
his conscience through every extremity ; and no penalty can
deter the benevolent man from devoting all he has to give —
his money, his time, and his life — to the relief of suffering. On
such as these — the upright and the devoted — every appeal to
their lower faculties is lost ; and as for their hope and fear —

CARE OF THE POWERS ! — FEAR.

they have passed into something higher. With them » perfect
love has cast out fear ;" and hope has grown up into Faith ;
and this faith being to them "the substance of things hoped
for, the evidence of things not seen," it must be more to them
than any of the passing pains and pleasures of life. Exalted
as these beings are, they are of the same make as the infant on
its mother's lap : and each is destined to derive his highest
gratification from the exercise of the noblest faculties of his
nature. If parents did but understand and constantly remember
this, they would consider well before they dared to mix up a
meaner pleasure and pain with the greater, while appealing to
any of the higher moral faculties of their children — if indeed
they ventured upon reward and punishment at all.

CHAPTER X.

CARE OF THE POWERS CONTINUED : — FEAR.

There is nothing in which children differ more than in their
capacity for Fear. But every child has it more or less, — or
ought to have it : for nothing can be made of a human being
who has never experienced it. A child who has never known
any kind of fear, can have no power of Imagination ; — can feel
no wonder, no impulse of life, no awe or veneration. Such a
case probably does not exist, except in a condition of idiocy. A
child who is called fearless, and who is congratulated upon this,
— who shows no shyness of strangers, who does not mind cold
wrater, or falls, or being in the dark, who runs after animals,
and plays with ugly insects, may yet cower under a starry sky,
or tremble at thunder, or be impressed for life by a mysterious
dream. It is for the parents to watch the degree and direc-
tion of an infant's fear, firmly assured that whatever be this
degree and direction, all may end well under prudent care.

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

The least favourable case is that of the apathetic child.
When it appears indifferent to whatever may happen to it, and
shrinks from nothing, it must be as incapable of hope and en-
joyment as of fear, and there must be something amiss in its
health, — in its nervous system ; and its health is what must be
looked to first. It must be well nourished and amused ; its
perceptive faculties must be exercised, and every sort of acti-
vity must be encouraged. If this succeeds, and its feelings
begin to show themselves, fear will come with the rest ; and
then its education in that respect must begin. But it must
ever be carefully remembered that fear often puts on the ap-
pearance of apathy, — especially in a proud child. No crea-
ture is so intensely reserved as a proud and timid child : and
the cases are few in which the parents know any thing of the
agonies of its little heart, the spasms of its nerves, the soul-
sickness of its days, the horrors of its nights. It hides its
miseries under an appearance of indifference or obstinacy, till
its habitual terror impairs its health, or drives it into a temper
of defiance or recklessness. I can speak with some certainty
of this, from my own experience. I was as timid a child as
ever was born ; yet nobody knew, or could know, the extent
of this timidity ; for though abundantly open about everything
else, I was as secret as the grave about this. I had a dream
at four years old which terrified me to such an excess that I
cannot now recal it without a beating of the heart. I could
not look up at the sky on a clear night ; for I felt as if it was
only just above the tree tops, and must crush me. I could not
cross the yard except at a run, from a sort of feeling, with no
red belief, — that a bear was after me. The horrors of my
nights were inexpressible. The main terror, however, was a
magic-lantern which we were treated with once a year, and
sometimes twice. We used to talk of this exhibition as a pro-
digious pleasure ; and I contrived to reckon on it as such; but
I never saw the white cloth, with its circle of yellow light,
without being in a cold perspiration from head to foot. One
of the pictures on the slides was always suppressed by my

CARE OF THE POWERS 1 — FEAR.

father, lest it should frighten the little ones : — a dragon's head,
vomiting flames. He little thought that a girl of thirteen could
he terrified by this: but when I was thirteen, — old enough to
be put in charge of some children who were to see the magic
lantern, — this slide was exhibited by one of my brothers
among the rest. I had found it hard enough to look and
laugh before ; and now I turned so faint that I could not
stand, but by grasping a chair. But for the intensity of my
shame, I should have dropped. Much of the benefit of instruc-
tion was lost to me during all the years that I had masters :
my memory failed me when they knocked at the door, and I
could never ask a question, or get voice to make a remark. I
could never play to my music master, or sing with a clear
voice but when I was sure nobody could hear me. Under
all this, my health was bad; my behaviour was dogged, and
provoking, and my temper became for a time insufferable. Its
improvement began from the year when I first obtained some
release from habitual fear. During these critical years I misled
every body about me by a habit of concealment on this one
subject, which I am sure I should not now have strength for
under any inducement whatever. Because I climbed our
apple-tree, and ran along the top of a high wall, and took great
leaps, and was easily won by benevolent strangers, and be-
cause I was never known to hint or own myself afraid, no one
suspected that fear was at the bottom of the immoveable indif-
ference and apparently unfeeling obstinacy by which I per-
plexed and annoyed everybody about me. I make these con-
fessions willingly, in the hope that some inexperienced or busy
parent may be awakened by them to observe whether the
seeming apathy of a child be really from indifference, or the
outward working of some hidden passion of fear.

Bold children are good and promising subjects ; and it is a
delightful thing to a parent's heart to see an infant fairly trying
its powers against difficulties and obstacles — confronting na-
ture in all seasons of light and darkness, of sunshine and
tempest, in the face of strangers and friends alike, free and

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

fearless. It is delightful to think how much misery and em-
barrassment he is spared, by his happy constitution of nerves
and brain. But, while the proud parent sees in him the future
discoverer or sailor, or leader among men, it must be remem-
bered that in order to become great, in order to become truly
a man at all, he must learn and endure much that can be
learned and endured only through fear, and the conquest of it.
That there is some fear in him is certain ; and the parent must
silently search it out, and train it up into that awe and modesty
which are necessary to the high courage of a whole life. No
man or woman can be a faithful servant of Duty, qualified to
live, suffer, and die for it, who has not grown up in awe of
something higher than himself — in veneration of some powers
greater than he can understand ; and this awe and veneration
have in them a large element of fear at the beginning. What
this element is, in each case, the parents must set themselves
to understand. Too many think it their duty to make a child
afraid, if fear does not seem to come of itself: and too many
do this without thinking it their duty, from the spirit of oppo-
sition being excited in themselves, from the spirit of incon-
venient fearlessness in the child. I have known a tutor avow
his practice of beating a bold boy till he broke two canes over
him, because the boy ought to learn that he is under a power
(a power of arm) greater than his own, and must, through
fear of it, apply himself to his appointed business. Such in-
flictions make a boy reckless, or obstinate, or deceitful. And
I have seen far too many instances of irritable parents who
have tried to manage a high-spirited child by threats; and,
the threats failing, by blows, or shutting up in the dark, or
hobgoblin prophecies, which have created no real awe or obe-
dience, but only defiance, or forced and sullen submission.
This will never do. A tender parent will never have the heart
to breed fear in a child, knowing that " fear hath torment."
A truly loving parent will know that it would be less unkind
to bruise his child's limbs, or burn his flesh, than to plant tor-
turing feelings in his mind. The most effectual way, for all

CARE OF THE POWERS : — FEAR.

purposes, is to discover the fear that is already there, in order
to relieve him from it, by changing his weakness into a source
of strength and comfort. What is it — this fear that lies hidden
in him ? A boy who is not afraid of the dark, or of a bull, or
of a ghost, may tremble at the sight of a drunken man, or at
the hearing of an oath. A girl who is not afraid of a spider or
a toad, nor of thieves, nor of climbing ladders, may tremble
at the moaning of the wind in the chimney, or at a frown from
her mother, or at entering a sick chamber. Whatever be the
fear, let the parents watch, carefully but silently, till ihey have
found it out : and having found it out, let them lead the child
on to conquest, both by reason and by bringing such courage as
he has to bear on the weak point. In any case, whether of a
bold or a timid child, the only completely effectual training
comes from the parents' example. If the every day life of the
parents shows that they dread nothing but doing wrong, for
either themselves or their children, the fears of the most timid
and of the boldest will alike take this direction, sooner or later:
and the courage of both will, with more or less delay, become
adequate to bear and do any thing for conscience' sake. If it
be the clear rule and habit of an entire household to dread and
detest only one thing, the fear and dislike of every mind in the
household will become concentred upon that one thing, and
every heart will become stout to avoid and repel it. And if the
one dreaded thing be sin, it is well ; for the courage of each
will be perpetually reinforced by the whole strength of the best
faculties of every mind.

As for the case of the timid child, — let not the parent be dis-
heartened, for the noblest courage of man or woman has often
grown out of the excessive fears of the child. It is true, the
little creature is destined to undergo many a moment of agony,
many an hour of misery, many a day of discouragement ; but
all this pain may be more than compensated for by the attain-
ment of such a freedom and strength at last as may make it
feel as if it had passed from hell to heaven. Think what it
must be for a being who once scarcely dared to look round

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

from fear of lights on the ceiling or shadows on the wall, who
started at the patter of the rain, or the rustle of the birds leaving
the spray, who felt suffocated by the breeze and maddened by
the summer lightning, to pass free, fearless and glad through all
seasons and their change, — all climes and their mysteries and
dangers ; — to pass exhilarated through raging seas, over glaring
deserts, and among wild forests ! Think what it must be for a
creature who once trembled before a new voice or a grave
countenance, and writhed under a laugh of ridicule, and lied,
at the cost of deep mental agony, to avoid a rebuke, — think
what it must be to such a creature to find itself at last free and
fearless, — enjoying such calm satisfaction within as to suffer
nothing from the ridicule or the blame of those who do not
know his mind, and so thoroughly acquainted with the true
values of things as to have no dread of sickness or poverty, or
the world's opinion, because no evil that can befal him can
touch his peace ! Think what a noble work it will be to raise
your trembling little one to such a condition as this, and you
will be eager to begin the task at once, and patient and watch-
ful to continue it from day to day.

First, how to begin. The most essential thing for a timid
infant is to have an absolutely unfailing refuge in its mother.
It may seem unnecessary to say this. It may appear impossible
that a mother's tenderness should ever fail towards a helpless
little creature who has nothing but that tenderness to look to :
but alas ! it is not so. I know a lady who is considered very
sweet-tempered, and who usually is so — kind and hospitable,
and fond of her children. Her infant under six months old
was lying on her arm one day when the dessert was on the
table ; and the child was eager after the bright glasses and
spoons, and more restless than was convenient. After several
attempts to make it lie quiet, the mother slapped it — slapped it
hard. This was from an emotion of disappointed vanity, from
vexation that the child was not << good" before visitors. If such
a thing could happen, may we not fear that other mothers may
fail in tenderness, — in the middle of the night, for instance,

CARE OF THE POWERS! — FEAR.

after a toilsome day, when kept awake by the child's restless-
ness, or amidst the hurry of the day, when business presses,
and the little creature will not take its sleep ? Little do such
mothers know the fatal mischief they do by impairing their
child's security with them. If they did, they would undergo
anything before they would let a harsh word or a sharp tone
escape them, or indulge in a severe look or a hasty movement.
A child's heart responds to the tones of its mother's voice like
a harp to the wind ; and its only hope for peace and courage
is in hearing nothing but gentleness from her, and experiencing
nothing but unremitting love, whatever may be its troubles
elsewhere. Supposing this to be all right, the mother will feel
herself from the first the depositary of its confidence ; — a con-
fidence as sacred as any other, though tacit, and about matters
which may appear to all but itself and her infinitely small.
Entering by sympathy into its fears, she will incessantly charm
them away, till the child becomes open to reason, — and even
afterwards ; for the most terrible fears are precisely those which
have nothing to do with reason. She will bring it acquainted
with every object in the room or house, letting it handle in
merry play everything which could look mysterious to its fearful
eyes, and rendering it familiar with every household sound.
Some of my worst fears in infancy were from lights and
shadows. The lamp-lighter's torch on a winter's afternoon, as
he ran along the street, used to cast a gleam, and the shadows
of the window frames on the ceiling; and my blood ran cold
at the sight, every day, even though I was on my father's knee,
or on the rug in the middle of the circle round the fire. Nothing
but compulsion could make me enter our drawing-room before
breakfast on a summer morning; and if carried there by the
maid, I hid my face in a chair that I might not see what was
dancing on the wall. If the sun shone (as it did at that time of
day,) on the glass lustres on the mantel-piece, fragments of gay
colour were cast on the wall ; and as they danced when the
glass drops were shaken, I thought they were alive, — a sort of
imps. But, as I never told any body what I felt, these fears

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

could not be met, or charmed away ; and I grew up to an age
which I will not mention before I could look steadily at pris-
matic colours dancing on the wall. Suffice it that it was long
after I had read enough of Optics to have taught any child how
such colours came there. Many an infant is terrified at the
shadow of a perforated night lamp, with its round spaces of light.
Many a child lives in perpetual terror of the eyes of portraits on
the walls, — or of some grotesque shape in the pattern of the
paper-hangings. Sometimes the terror is of the clack of the
distant loom, or of the clink from the tinman's, or of the rumble
of carts under a gateway, or of the creak of a water-wheel, or
the gush of a mill-race. Everything is or may be terrifying to
a timid infant ; and it is therefore a mother's charge to familiar-
ize it gently and playfully with everything that it can possibly
notice, making sport with all sights, and inciting it to imitation
of all sounds — from the drone of the pretty bee to the awful
cry of the old clothes-man : — from the twitter of the sparrows
on the roof to the toll of the distant church bell.

It is a matter of course that no mother will allow any ignorant
person to have access to her child who will frighten it with
goblin stories, or threats of the old black man. She might as
well throw up her charge at once, and leave off thinking of
household education altogether, as permit her child to be exposed
to such maddening inhumanity as this. The instances are not
few of idiocy or death from terror so caused.

While thus preventing or scattering fears which arise from
the imagination, both parents should be constantly using the
little occasions which are always arising, for exercising their
child's courage. The most timid children have always courage^
in one direction or another. While I was trembling and faint-
ing under magic-lanterns and street cries, I could have suffered
any pain and died any death without fear, the circumstances
being fairly laid before me. Let the timid child be made hardy
in its play by example and encouragement. Let it be cheered
on to meet necessary pain without flinching, — the taking out a
thorn, or pulling out a tooth. Let it early hear of real heroic

CARE OF THE POWERS '. — FEAR.

deeds, — hear them spoken of with all the affectionate admira-
tion with which we naturally speak of such acts. If a life is
saved from fire or drowning, let the children hear of it as a
joyful fact. Let them, hear how steadily William Tell's little
son stood, for his father to shoot through the apple. Let them
hear how the good man who was on his way to be burnt for his
religion took off his shoes, and gave them to a barefooted man
who came to stare at him, saying that the poor man wanted the
shoes, but he could do without them now. Let them hear of
the other good man who was burnt for his religion, and who
promised some friends, in danger of the same fate, that he
would clasp his hands above his head in the midst of the fire, if
he found the pain so bearable that he did not repent, and who
did lift up his arms and join them after his hands were con-
sumed,— so giving his friends on the hill-side comfort and
strength. If any child of your acquaintance does a brave thing,
or bears pain cheeflully, let your children hear of it as a good
and happy thing. Above all, let them see, as I said before, all
their lives long, that you fear nothing but wrong-doing, —
neither tempests nor comets, nor reports of famine or fever, nor
the tongues of the quarrelsome, nor any other of the accidents
of life, — no pain, in short, but pain of conscience, — and the
same spirit will strengthen in them. Their fear will follow the
direction of yours ; their courage will come in sympathy with
yours ; and their minds will fill more and more with thoughts
of hope and heroism which must in time drive out such remain-
ing terrors as cannot be met by fact or reason.

In this fearlessness of yours is included fearlessness for your
children, as well as for yourselves. While their limbs are soft
and feeble, of course you must be strength and safety to them :
but when they arrive at a free use of their limbs and senses, let
them fully enjoy that free use. We English are behind almost
every nation in the strength and hardihood of the race of chil-
dren. In America I have seen little boys and girls perched in
trees overhanging fearful precipices, and crawling about great
holes in bridges, while the torrent was rushing below ; and I

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

could not learn that accidents from such practices were ever
heard of. In Switzerland I have seen mere infants scrambling
among the rocks after the goats, — themselves as safe as kids,
from the early habit of relying on their own powers. In Egypt
and Nubia I have seen five-year old boys poppling about like
ducks in the rapids of the Nile, while some, not much older,
were not satisfied with hauling and pushing, as our boat as-
cended the cataract, but swam and dived, to heave off her keel
from sunken rocks. Such children are saved from danger, as
much as from fear, by an early use of all the powers they have:
and it would be a happy thing for many an English child if its
parents were brave enough to encourage it to try how much it
can do with its wonderful little body. Of this, however, we
shall have to say more under another head.

CHAPTER XI.

CARE OF THE POWERS CONTINUED : — PATIENCE.

Some may be surprised to find Patience spoken of among
the Powers of Man. They have been accustomed to consider
it a passive quality, and not as involving action of the mind.
They do not find it in any catalogue of the organs of the brain,
and have always supposed it a mere negation of the action of
those organs.

But patience is no negation. It is the vigorous and sus-
tained action, amidst outward stillness, of some of the most
powerful faculties with which the human being is endowed ;
and primarily of its powers of Firmness and Resistance. The
man who holds up his head, quiet and serene, through a sea-
son of unavoidable poverty or undeserved disgrace, is exer-
cising his power of Firmness as vigorously as the general who
pursues his warfare without change of purpose through a long

CARE OP THE POWERS: — PATIENCE.

campaign ; and a lame child, strong and spirited, who sits by
cheerfully to see his companions leaping ditches, is or has been
engaged in as keen a combat with opposing forces as a couple
of pugilists. In the case of the patient, the resolution and re-
sistance are brought to bear against invisible enemies, which are
the more, and not the less, hard to conquer from their assaults
being made in silence, and having to be met in the solitude of
the inner being. The man patient under poverty or disgrace
has to carry on an active interior conflict with his baffled hope,
his grieved domestic affections, his natural love of ease and
enjoyment, his mortified ambition, his shaken self-esteem, and
his yearning after sympathy. And the lame child among the
leapers has to contend alone with most of these mortifications,
and with his stimulating animal spirits besides. Nothing can
be further from passiveness than his state in his hour of trial,
though he may sit without moving a muscle. He is putting
down the swellings of his little heart, and taming his instincts,
and rousing his will, and searching out noble supports among
his highest ideas and best feelings — putting on his invisible
armour as eagerly as any hero whom the trumpet calls from
his rest.

Patience is no more like passiveness in its smallest exercises
than in these great ones. Look at the ill-nursed passive infant,
— how it hangs over its mother's shoulder, or slouches on her
arm, — its eye dull, its face still, its movements slow : see how,
when old enough to amuse itself, it sits on the floor by the
hour together, jangling a bunch of keys, lulling itself with that
noise, instead of making any of its own ! Contrast with this
the lively infant beginning to be trained to patience. It does
not cry for its food or toy, as it used to do, but its limbs are
all active, it fidgets, and it searches its mother's face for hope
and encouragement not to cry. And when more advanced,
how busy is its little soul while it makes no noise, and post-
pones its play for the sake of the baby. If it sits at watch be-
side the cradle, how it glances about to warn away the kitten,
or puts its finger on its lips if the door opens, or watches so

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

intently for baby's eye-lids to open as to start when it jerks its
hand. If waiting for play till baby has had its meal, how it
stands at its mother's knee, making folds .in her gown, — see-
sawing its body perhaps, and fetching deep sighs, to throw off
its impatience, but speaking no word — making no complaint
till baby has had its dues. And when its turn is come, baby
being laid down, what a spring into the lap, what a clasp of
the neck is there ! while the child with the keys has to be lifted
from the floor like a bag of sand.

As patience includes strong action of the mind, the vivacious
child has a much better chance of becoming patient than the
passive one ; — so far are passiveness and patience from being
alike. Patience is indeed the natural first step in that self-
government w7hich is essential to the whole purpose of human
life. It is impossible to overrate the importance of this self-
government ; and therefore it is impossible to overrate the im-
portance of this first step, — the training to patience. And the
vivacious child is happy above the apathetic one in being fitted
to enter at once upon the training from the earliest moment that
the will is naturally capable of action.

And now about this training.
I It must begin before the little creature is capable of volun-
tary effort. The mother must take its little troubles upon her-
self, and help it all she can, till the habit of patience is com-
pletely formed ; — which will be long. She must not only
comfort it in its restlessness and inability to wait, but beguile
it of its impatience. She must amuse it, and turn away its
attention from its grievance, or its object of desire, — nevet
yielding what it ought not to have, and always indulging it
where there is no reason for denial. In time, the infant will
learn that it can wait, and in what cases it must wait ; and
from that time, its work of self-control begins. I have before
my mind's eye a little child of sensitive nerves and strong will
who early showed by her loud impatient cry how she might
suffer in after life, if the habit of patience were not timely
formed. It wras timely formed. She died of scarlet fever be-

CARE OP THE POWERS: — PATIENCE. 69

fore she was four years old ; and the self-command that little
creature showed amidst the restlessness of her fever and the
grievous pain of her sore-throat, was a comfort which will re-
main for ever to those who mourn her. It of course lessened
her own suffering, and it cheered the heart of her wise mother
with a joy which lights up her memory. Here the great condi-
tion was fulfilled which is essential to the work ; — the parents
are themselves patient and consistent. Self-control can never
be taught without example. From the beginning an infant can
perceive whether the moral atmosphere around it is calm or
stormy, or will naturally become calm or stormy accordingly.
If its mother scolds the servant, if its father gets into a pas-
sion with the elder children, if there is disturbance of mind
because a meal is delayed, — if voices grow loud and angry in
argument, or there is gloom in the face or manner of any grown
person who has a headache, how is the infant to learn to wait
and be cheerful under its little troubles? — these little troubles
being to its misfortunes as great as it is at all able to bear.

I would not cite the old quaker discipline of families as a
pattern of what is to be wished in all things. There was too
often a want of tenderness, and of freedom and of mirth — such
as children need, and as are quite compatible with the forma-
tion of a habit of patience : but in that one respect, — of pa-
tience,— how admirable are the examples that many of us have
seen ! The cultivation of serenity being a primary religious
duty with the parents, how the spirit and the habit spread
through the children ! Before they could understand that the
grown people about them were waiting for the guidance of
" the Inward Witness," they saw and felt that the temper was
that of humble waiting ; and they too learned to wait. When
set up on a high stool from which they could not get down,
and bid to sit still without toys for a prescribed time, how many
a restless child learned to subdue his inward chafing, and to
sit still till the hand of the clock showed that he might ask to
come down ! This exercise was a preparation for the silent
meeting, where there would be less to amuse his eyes, and no

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

one could tell how long he might have to sit ; and how well
the majority of quaker children went through this severer test!
Few of us will approve of this kind of discipline. We think
it bad, because unnatural. We think that the trials of a child's
patience which come of themselves every day are quite enough
for its powers, and, if rightly used, for its training ; but the
instance shows how powerful is the example of the parents
and the habit of the household in training little children to self-
control.

Yes, — the little occasions of every day are quite enough :
and if they were not, little could be gained, and much would
be lost, by inventing more. There is a tyranny in making a
lively child sit on a high stool with nothing to do, even though
the thing is ordained for its own good ; and every child has a
keen sense of tyranny. The patience taught by such means
cannot be thorough. It cannot be an amiable and cheerful
patience, pervading the whole temper. It is much better to
use those natural occasions which it is clear that the parent
does not create. There is seldom or never a day when some-
thing does not happen to irritate a child ; — it is hungry, or
thirsty, or tired ; it gets a tumble, or dislikes cold water, or
wants to be petted when its mother is busy ; or breaks a toy,
or the rain comes when it wants to go out, or pussy runs away
from play, or it has an ache or a pain somewhere. All these
are great misfortunes for the time to a little child : and if it
can learn by degrees to bear them, first by being beguiled of
them, and then by being helped through them, and at last by
sustaining them alone, there is every hope that the severe trials
of after life will be sustained with less effort than is required
by these trifles now. A four-year-old child that can turn away
and find amusement for itself when its mother cannot attend to
it, — and swallow its tears when the rain will not let it sow its
garden seeds, and stifle its sobs when it has knocked its elbow,
and forgive any one who has broken its toy, and lie still with-
out complaining when it is ill, gives the fairest promise of being
able to bear serenely the severest calamities of after life. For

CARE OF THE POWERS: — PATIENCE.

my own part, I feel that no spectacle of fortitude in man or
woman is more animating and touching than what may be seen
in little children, who have seriously entered upon the great
work of self-government, — sustained by wise and tender pa-
rental help. Some time ago, I was in the house with a little
girl of three years old, whose throat was one day very sore.
She tried in vain to get down some dinner,— cried, was amused,
and went to sleep. On waking, some of the soft rice-pudding
from our table was tried; but the throat was now worse, and
she cried again. To amuse her, she was set up at our table in
her little chair, between her mamma and me. I saw the des-
perate efforts she was making to keep down her sobs: and
when she looked over to her father, and said softly, " I mean
to be dood,1' it was too much for others besides me. Her
tender father helped her well through it. He told her a long,
long story about something he had seen that morning; and as
her large eyes were fixed on his face, the sobs subsided, and
she became absorbed in what he was telling her. That child
was as truly an object of reverence to us as any patient suf-
ferer of maturer age.

The finest opportunity for the cultivation of patience in a
household is where there are many children, — boys and girls, —
with no great difference of years between them. Here, in the
first place, the parents have need of all the faith and patience
they have, to bear hopefully with the impatience of some of
their children. There are moments, hours, and days, in the
best households, when the conscientious and tender mother
feels her heart rent by the spectacle of the quarrels of her children.
It is a truth which had better be at once fully admitted, that
where there are many children nearly approaching each other
in age, their wills must clash, their passions become excited,
and their affections be for the time overborne. When a mother
sees her children scratch and strike, when her ear catches the
bitter words of passion between brothers, her heart stands still
with grief and dread. But she must be comforted. All may
be well if she overrules this terrible necessity as she may. She

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

must remember that the strength of will thus shown is a great
power for use in the acquisition of patience. She must remem-
ber that the odiousness of passion is not yet evident to her
children, as it is to her. She must remember how small is the
moral comprehension of a child, and therefore how intense are
its desires, and how strong is the provocation when those desires
are thwarted. She must remember that time and enlargement
of views are what children want to make them men: and that
time and enlargement are sure to come to these young creatures,
and make men of them, if the parents do their part. Her part
to-day is to separate the children who cannot agree ; to give
time and opportunity for their passions to subside, the desire of
the moment to pass away, and the affections and the reason to
be aroused. She must obtain their confidence apart, and bring
them together again when they can forgive and agree. If she
finds that such troubles enable her to understand her children
better, and reveal their own minds to themselves, and if such
failures help them to a more careful self-rule, the event may be
well worth the pain.

J have said that there are few or no large families of children
in which quarrelling does not sometimes occur. But if the
quarrelling does not early cease — if the liability does not pass
away like the diseases of childhood, it is sadly plain that the
fair opportunity of cultivating a habit of patience has been lost
or misused. It must be early and watchfully used. Every
member of the household must be habituated, constantly and as
a privilege, to wait and forbear for the sake of others. The
father takes the lead — as he ought to do in all good things.
His children see in him, from year to year, an example of patient
toil — patient and cheerful toil — whether he be statesman, mer-
chant, farmer, shopkeeper, artizan or labourer. The mother
comes next, — seen to wait patiently on her sick or helpless
infant, and to be forbearing with servants and children, enduring
in illness and fatigue, and cheerful through everything. Then
come the elder children, who must have been long and steadily
trained, through early self-control, to wait, not only in tender-

CARE OF THE POWERS: PATIENCE — INFIRMITY.

ness on the helpless infant, but in forbearance on the weakness
of those younger and frailer than themselves. Then come those
of the middle age, who have to wait in such patience as they
are capable of under their own personal trials, and the will and
pleasure of their parents and elders. And lastly come the little
ones, who are likely to have plenty of opportunity for self-
command amidst the business and chances of a large family, and
the variety of influences ever at work therein. So various a
household is a complete little world to children— -the discipline
of which is no small privilege as being preparatory to that of
the larger world upon which they must enter after their habits
of mind are formed. To the parents the advantage is inestimable
of having this little world, not only under their eye, so that they
may timely see how their children are likely to fare morally in
the great world of adult life, but under their hand, so that they
can, according to their discretion, adapt its influences to the
needs of their charge.

Some households, and not a few, are made a harsh school,
or a sweet home of Patience, by the presence of some infirmity
of body or mind in some one member. This is a case so fre-
quent, and the circumstance is so important, that I must devote
my next pages to it.

CHAPTER XII.

CARE OF THE POWERS: PATIENCE — INFIRMITY.

Though the great majority of children born into the world
have five senses and four limbs, a full-formed brain, and a
well-formed frame, there are many thousands in every civilized
country that have not : and so many more thousands are inte-
rested in their lot, that it is, or ought to be, a subject of wide
and deep concern how their case should be treated, for their

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

own sake, and that of all connected with them. It is a matter
of great and increasing surprise, when elections of objects for
Blind and Deaf and Dumb Institutions, or a special census for
the purpose occurs, how very numerous are the Blind and Deaf
and Dumb : and much greater still is the proportion of persons
who, through ill-health or accident, lose a limb, or grow up
deformed. And I believe the cases of total or partial idiocy
are more numerous even than these. The number of persons
thus interested in the subject of bodily infirmity is very large
indeed ; and it would be a great omission in treating of House-
hold Education, not to speak of what concerns so many homes.

The first impulse of a parental heart, on becoming aware of
the infirmity of a child, is to lavish on the sufferer all its tender-
ness, and thus to strive to compensate to it for what it must
forego and suffer from its peculiarity. The impulse, being
natural and unselfish, is right ; but it is not enough. It is very
far indeed from being all that is due to a creature whose help-
lessness gives it a sacred claim upon its whole race for what-
ever aid can be afforded it. If it were good that a mother
should nurse an infirm child through the day, and guard it all
the night : — that she should devote all her time and all her
love, and sacrifice all her pleasures to it, and minister to its
wishes every hour of its life ; — if it were good that she should
do all this, it would not be enough. It is not good, and it is
not enough.

The true claim of an infirm child, as of every other child,
is to be made the most of. And no human being was ever
yet made the most of by lavish and unchastened indulgence.
Every human being, — not excepting even the idiot, — has a
world of its own, wherein to act and enjoy ; and the parents'
charge is to enable it to act and enjoy its own world in the
fullest and freest manner possible.

Let us take the worst case first : — that of the idiot.

It is never the case that a human being has no faculties at
all. A child whose brain did not act at all, could not live. It
could not move, nor swallow or digest food, nor see, nor hear,

CARE OF THE POWERS : PATIENCE — INFIRMITY. 75

nor breathe. And it seldom or never happens that it has not
many faculties, though the want, in an idiot, of what we call
Sense makes us too careless in observing what powers he has,
and in making what we can of them. From the deficiency of
some faculties, and the consequent want of co-operation and
balance among his powers, the idiot lacks sense, and must
therefore be taken care of all his days, like an infant ; but it
does not follow that he can never do and enjoy more than an
infant. On the contrary, we see, oftener than not, that an
idiot has some strong faculties. One may be shockingly glutton-
ous and sensual : another is desperately orderly : another is
always singing : another is wonderful in arithmetic, though
nobody can conceive how he learned : another draws every
thing he sees : another imitates every thing he hears : another
is always building clay houses, or cutting wood or paper into
shapes : another can always tell the time — day or night — even
wrhere there is no clock in the house or within hearing. One
will share every thing he has to eat with the dog, or the cat,
or the bird : anothercaresses his mother, or brothers and sisters,
and follows them about wherever they go ; while another gives
no heed to any body, but stands out of doors for hours listening
to the wind or the birds, and sits a whole winter evening
watching the blazing fire. One will not be ruled, and fights
every body who tries to control him, while another is in a
transport or an agony, according as his mother looks pleased
or displeased with him. All these tendencies show that some
part or other of the brain is alive and active : and it is the
parents' business, w7ith this child as with the rest, to make the
most that can be made of his brain.

As reason cannot be used in this case, there must be all the
more diligence in the use of habit : and as he has no reason
of his own, that of his family must be made available to him
to the utmost. He must be made the family charge ; and
every member of the household must be admitted into the
council held in his behalf. There is hardly a child so young
but that it can understand the main points of the special train-

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

ing required, and the reasons for them. There is hardly a child
so young but that it can understand that John does not know,
as other people do, when to leave off eating ; and that this is
why the proper quantity is set before him, and no more is
given : and there are not a few little ones who will refrain from
asking for more of a good thing at table because John is to be
trained not to ask for more. If the object is to make John
clean and tidy, the youngest will bear cold water, and the
trouble of dressing cheerfully, that John may see what other
people do, and perhaps learn to imitate them. If John ever
sings, some little one will begin to sing when John looks dull;
and the family will learn as many tunes as they can to give
him a variety. If he is fond of arranging things, they will
lead him to the cupboard or the play-room, when it wants
putting in order. When he mopes, they will bring him the
scissors and paper, or the slate and pencil, or they will empty
the box of bricks on the floor, that the pleasant rattle may
tempt him to come and build. If, happily, the time should
arrive when John may learn to do something useful, every
one takes pride in it. At worst, he may perhaps be trained to
work the mangle, or to turn the wheel at the rope-walk. His
faculty of order may be turned to account by letting him set
the dinner and tea-table, and clear away. By a faculty of
constructiveness, he may become a fair basket-maker. By his
power of imitation, he may learn to dig in the field, or to saw
wood, or blow glass, or do other such mechanical work. If
the whole family not only love their poor brother, but take his
interests fairly to heart, his case may be made something of in
one way or another. At worst, he will probably be saved from
being offensive or annoying to those about him ; — a thing
almost always practicable in cases of idiocy from birth : and it
is very likely that he will be enabled to pass through life, not only
harmless, but busy, and, to some extent, useful, and as happy
as his deficient nature permits.

This is not a case in which patience can be spoken of as a
solace to the individual. He may be saved from the misery

CARE OF THE POWERS i PATIENCE INFIRMITY. 77

of impatience by wise training,— by the formation of habits of
quietness, under the rule of steady, gentle authority. This
may often be done ; but the noble and sweet solace of patience
under his restrictions is not for him : for he is unconscious, and

does not need it. It remains for those who do need it for

those who suffer for him and by him — for the father who sighs
that his son can never enjoy the honour and privilege of toil,
or the blessing of a home j — for the mother whose pillow is

wet with the tears she sheds over her child's privations ; for

the children whose occupations and play are disturbed by the
poor brother who wants their playthings, and hides or spoils
their books or work. They all have need of much patience ;
and, under good training, they obtain patience according to
their need. From what I have seen, I know that the training
of such a being may become a cheerful and hopeful object to
his parents, and one which strengthens them to repress his
whims and deny his animal appetites, and inflict the pain of
their displeasure upon him, in the patient hope of giving him
some degree of the privilege of self-government. From what
I have seen, I know that the most self-willed and irritable
child of such a family may learn never to be angry with John,
however passionate at times with others. Toys broken by
John are not to be cried for;— work spoiled by John is to be
cheerfully done over again : and everybody is to help to train
John not to do such mischief again.

Poor John knows nothing of life and its uses. He goes
through his share of it, like one walking in a dream, and then
passes away without leave-taking. He passes away early ; for
people in his state rarely live very long. Brain is the great
condition of life ; and an imperfect brain usually brings early
death. It is when he has passed away that the importance of
poor John's life becomes felt and understood. Neighbours may
and do reasonably call his departure a blessing; and the parents
and brethren may and do reasonably feel it an unspeakable re-
lief from anxiety and restraint. But they mourn him with a de-
gree of sorrow surprising to themselves. When the parents mark

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

the habits of self-government, and the temper of cheerful pa-
tience, generated in their remaining children, they feel as if
under deep obligations to their dead son, as the instrument of
this. And the youngest of the tribe looks round wistfully for
John, and daily wishes that he was here, to do what he was
fond of doing, and enjoy the little pleasures which were looked
upon as particularly his own.

- If the worst case of infirmity may issue thus, we may turn
cheerfully to some which are light in comparison, however sad
when looked at by themselves — the cases of blind and deaf
children. What is to be made of these?

The case of the deaf is unquestionably the worst of the two,
when the deficiency is from birth. The subsequent loss of
either sense is quite a different matter. Then, blindness is the
severest privation of the two, from its compulsory idleness, and
total exclusion from the objects of the lost sense, while the
deaf can always be busy in mind and hands, and retain the
most important part of the world of 'sound in written and
printed speech. It is the privation of language which makes
the case of those born deaf worse than that of the born blind.
Those born deaf are dumb ; and they are rendered incapable
of any high degree of intellectual and moral cultivation, by
being cut off from all adequate knowledge of the meaning of
knowledge, and from the full reception of most abstract ideas.
This is not the place for discussion on this subject. It is enough
to say here, that every one who has tried knows that though
it is easy to teach a deaf and dumb child what is meant by the
words "dog," "sheep," "spoon," "tree," "table," &c,
it is found beyond measure difficult to teach it the meaning of
"Monday," "Tuesday," " Wednesday," &c, and of "love,"
"truth," "hatred," "wisdom," and the names of unseen
things in general. There is every reason to believe that the
most highly educated deaf and dumb persons, who use lan-
guage readily and prettily, have yet very narrow and superfi-
cial minds— from language not being to them natural speech,
incessantly bringing them into communication with other minds,

CARE OF THE POWERS: PATIENCE — INFIRMITY.

but a lesson taught as we teach blind children about colours,
which they may speak about without making mistakes, but can
never understand.

It is necessary for the parents of the deaf and dumb to be
aware of these things, if they are to losk their child's lot stea-
dily in the face, and learn what is the best that can be made
of it. They must apply themselves chiefly to give it what it
is least likely to obtain from others — not so much ideas of sight,
touch, smell, and taste, as of unseen things. They must ever
bear in mind that the great purpose of the human ear and of
speech is not so much to convey ideas of sound — sweet and
profitable as is all the natural music of the universe — as of un-
seen things — of the whole world of the spirit, from which their
child is naturally shut out by its infirmity. After all that they
can do, there will be a sad deficiency ; but they must lessen it
as much as they can. There is no fear but that the child will,
much as others, enjoy the sights which are laid open to it, and
be quick and ready in action, according to its ideas. They
must arouse in it the pleasure of using its mental faculties ; and
more carefully still, the satisfaction of moral energy. They
must be even more careful with it than with the rest to lead it
on to the exercise of self-denial, and a habit of thoughtful
conscientiousness, that it may learn from its own moral expe-
rience much that it is debarred from learning as others do of
the rich kingdom which lies within us all. In this case, above
all others, is the moral example of the parents important to the
child. Other children hear every day the spoken testimony
of their parents in favour of what is good in morals and man-
ners. They hear it in church, and in every house they enter.
The deaf child judges by what it sees, and guides itself ac-
cordingly. If it sees bad temper and manners, how is it to
know of anything better? If it sees at home only love and
kindness, just and gentle, has it not an infinitely better chance
of becoming loving and gentle itself?

The parents must keep a careful guard on their own pity
for their defective child. A deaf child has scarcely any no-

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

tion, as a blind one has, of what it loses ; and nothing is more
certain than that deaf children are apt to be proud and vain,
and to take advantage of the pity which everybody feels for
them. Knowing little of their own loss, they misunderstand
this pity, and are apt to take to themselves the credit of all the
notice it brings them, and to grasp at all they can get. A
watchful parent knows from her heart that there is no blame
in this ; but she sees that there is great danger. The child
cannot help the liability ; but it may be rescued from it. She
must not be lavish of indulgence which maybe misunderstood.
She should let it be as happy as it can in its own way — and
the deaf and dumb are usually very brisk and cheerful. What
she has to do for it is not to attempt to console it for a priva-
tion which it does not feel, but to open to it a higher and bet-
ter happiness in a humble, occupied, and serene state of mind.
She should set before it its own state of privation, notwith-
standing any mortification that the disclosure may cause : and
when that mortification is painful, she should soothe it by giv-
ing, gently and cheerfully, the sweet remedies of humility and
patience.

In the case of the blind child, the training must be very dif-
ferent. Every day, and almost every hour, reminds the blind
child of its privation ; and its discipline is so^ severe, that al-
most any degree of indulgence in the parent would be excusa-
ble, if it were not clearly the first duty to consider the ultimate
welfare of the child. It is natural to the sighing mother to
watch over its safety with a nervous anxiety, to go before it to
clear its way, to have it always at her knee, and to make every-
body and everything give way to it. But she must remember
that her child is not destitute, and for ever helpless, because it
has one sense less than other people. It has the wide world
of the other four senses to live in, and a vaster mental and
moral world than it will ever learn fully to use : and she must
let it try what it can make of its possessions. She will find
that it learns like others that fire burns and that bruises are dis-
agreeable, and that it can save itself from burns and bruises

CARE OF THE POWERS I PATIENCE — INFIRMITY. 81

by using its senses of touch and hearing. She will encourage
it in the cheerful work of shifting for itself, and doing, as far
as possible, what other people do. The wise and benevolent
Dr. Howe tells us of the children who come to the Blind
School at Boston, that for the first two or three days they are
timid and forlorn — having been accustomed to too much care
from their mothers, who will not let them cross the floor with-
out being sure that there is nothing in the way. But they pre-
sently enter into the free and cheerful spirit of the house, use
their faculties, feel their way boldly, and run, climb, swing,
and play as merrily as any other children. That school is a
little world of people with four senses — not so happy a one as
if they had five, but a very good one, nevertheless ; sufficiently
busy, safe, and cheerful for those who use heartily such powers
as they have.

This is the way in which the lot of the blind should be
viewed by their parents. And even then the deprivation is
quite sad enough to require great efforts of patience on every
hand. The parents have need of a deep and settled patience
when they see that their child has powers which, if he had but
eyes, would make him able and happy in some function from
which he is now for ever cut off: and the whole family have
need of patience for their infirm member when they are gaining
knowledge, or drinking in enjoyment through the eye, while
he sits dark, and unconscious or mortified. As for him, in his
darkness and mortification, there can be no question of his need
of patience. How to aid him and supply this need, I shall
consider in my next chapter, when treating of the other infir-
mities which some children have to learn to bear,

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

CHAPTER XIII.

CARE OF THE POWERS I PATIENCE — INFIRMITY.

The smaller misfortunes which we now turn to, under the
head of Infirmity — the loss of a limb,- the partial loss of a sense,
deformity and sickness — are scarcely less afflictive to the parent
than those we have considered, because they are even more
trying to the child. The sufferer is fully conscious of these :
and the parents' heart is sore at the spectacle of its mortifications.
What can be done to help it to a magnanimous patience?

First, there must be the fullest confidence between the parents
and the child. It can open its swelling heart to no one else ;
for the depth of its feeling renders it quite unable to speak of
its sufferings to any one, unless allured to do so ; and no one
can or ought to allure it to this confidence, except its parents,
or in case of failure from them. It may be thought strange that
this apparently natural act should be set before the parents as
a duty ; but I speak from knowledge ; and from the knowledge
of so many cases that I am compelled to believe that the very
last subject on which parents and child speak together is that
on which it is most necessary to the sufferer to have spoken
sympathy. Some parents have not courage to face the case
themselves, and evade the painful thought from day to day.
Some feel for their child that sort of deference which it is natural
to feel for the afflicted, and wait for the sufferer to speak.
Some persuade themselves that it is better for the child not to
recognise the trial expressly, and repel by forced cheerfulness
the sufferer's advances towards confidence. All this is wrong.
I have known a little crippled girl grow up to womanhood in
daily pain of heart from the keen sense of her peculiarity,
almost without uttering a syllable to any human being of that
grief which cursed her existence ; and suffering in mind and
character irreparably from the restraint. She got over it at last,
to a considerable degree, and became comparatively free and

CARE Or THE POWERS: PATIENCE — INFIRMITY. 83

happy ; but nothing could ever compensate to her for her long
bondage to false shame, or repair the mischief done to the action
of her mind by its being made to bear unrelieved weight which
it had naturally power to throw off. I know another sufferer
from the same misfortune whose heart was early opened by genial
confidence, and who throve accordingly. She had to bear all
the pain which a lively and sensitive child must feel in being
unable to play and dance as others do, and being so marked
an object as to be subject to staring in the street, and to the
insulting remarks of rude children as she passed. But the sym-
pathy of her protectors bore her through till her mind was strong
enough to protect itself ; and she has come out of the struggle
free and gay, active and helpful to a marvellous degree —
even graceful, making a sort of a plaything of her crutch, and
giving constant joy to her friends, and relief to strangers, by
her total freedom from false shame. I have known deafness grow
upon a sensitive child, so gradually as never to bring the mo-
ment when her parents felt impelled to seek her confidence ;
and the moment therefore never arrived. She became gradu-
ally borne down in health and spirits by the pressure of her
trouble, her springs of pleasure all poisoned, her temper irritated
and rendered morose, her intellectual pride puffed up to an in-
sufferable haughtiness, and her conscience brought by perpetual
pain of heart into a state of trembling soreness — all this, without
one word ever being offered to her by any person whatever of
sympathy or sorrow about her misfortune. Now and then,
some one made light of it ; now and then, some one told her
that she mismanaged it, and gave advice which, being inappli-
cable, grated upon her morbid feelings ; but no one inquired
what she felt, or appeared to suppose that she did feel. Many
were anxious to show kindness, and tried to supply some of her
privations; but it was toa late. She was shut up, and her
manner appeared hard and ungracious while her heart was
dissolving in emotions. No one knew when she stole out of
the room, exasperated by the earnest talk and merry laugh that
she could not share, that she went to bolt herself into her own

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

room, and sob on the bed, or throw herself on her knees to
pray for help or death. No one knew of her passionate longing
to be alone while she was, for her good, driven into society ;
nor how, when by chance alone for an hour or two, she wasted
the luxury by watching the lapse of the precious minutes. And
when she grew hard, strict, and even fanatical in her religion,
no one suspected that this was because her religion was her all
— her soul's strength under agonies of false shame, her wealth
under her privations, her refuge in her loneliness ; while her
mind was so narrow as to require that what religion was to her
— her one pursuit and object — it should be to everybody else.
In course of years, she in a great measure, retrieved herself,
though still conscious of irreparable mischief done to her nature.
All this while many hearts were aching for her, and the minds
of her family were painfully occupied in thinking what could
be done for her temper and her happiness. The mistake of re-
serve was the only thing they are answerable for; a mistake
which, however mischievous, was naturally caused by the very
pain of their own sympathy first and the reserve of the sufferer
afterwards.

From the moment that a child becomes subject to any
infirmity, a special relation between him and his mother begins
to exist ; and their confidence must become special. She must
watch for, or make occasions for speaking to him about his
particular trial ; not often, nor much at a time, but so as to
leave an opening for the pouring out of his little heart. If he
is not yet conscious of his peculiarity, this is the gentlest and
easiest way in which he can be made so. If he is conscious,
he must have some pain at his heart which he will be the better
for confiding. Hump-backed people are generally said to be
vain, haughty, fond of dress, forward and talkative, irritable
and passionate. If not so, they are usually shy and timid. I
cannot see any thing in their peculiarity to cause the first men-
tioned tendencies ; and I believe they arise from the mismanage-
ment of their case. The fond mother and pitying friends may
naturally forget that the child does not see himself as they see

CARE OF THE POWERS: PATIENCE — INFIRMITY. 85

him, and fancy that they soothe his mortifications by saying
whatever they can say in favour of his appearance — letting him
know that he has pretty hair, or good eyes. They may even
dress him fine, to make up to him in one way for his faults of
appearance in another. Under the idea of encouraging him
under his supposed mortifications, they may lead him on to be
forward and talkative. And then again, his mortifications,
when they come upon him unprepared, may well make him
irascible. How much of this might be obviated, as well as the
shyness and timidity of those who are left to themselves, by
timely confidence between the mother and child ! When they
are alone together, calm and quiet, let her tell him that he does
not look like other children, and that he will look less like
other people as he grows older. Never let her tell him that
this is of no great consequence — never let her utter the cant
that is talked to young ladies at schools, that the charms of the
mind are every thing, and those of the form and face nothing.
This is not true ; and she ought to know that it is not ; and
nothing but truth will be strong enough to support him in what
he must undergo. Let her not be afraid to tell him the worst.
He had better hear it from her ; and it will not be too much
for him, if told in a spirit of cheerful patience. The child, like
the man, never has a happier hour than that which succeeds
the reception of bad news, if the nobler faculties are allowed
their free play. If such a child hears from his mother that he
will always be ugly-shaped and odd-looking, — that he will not
be able to play as other boys do, or will be laughed at when
he tries; that he will be mocked at and called "My lord" in
the streets, and so on, and yet that all these things will not
make him unhappy if he can bear them ; and if they go on to
consult how he may bear them, and she opens out to him some-
thing of the sweet pleasures of endurance, he will come out of
the consultation exhilarated, and perhaps proudly longing to
meet his mortifications, and try his strength. Such pride must
have a fall, — like all the pride of childhood, — and many an
hour of depression must he know for every one of exhilaration :

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

but his case is put into his own hands, and there is every hope
that he will conquer, through patience, at last. And what a
refuge he has in his mother ! How well she will now know
his feelings and his needs! and how easy and natural it will be
to him henceforth to confide in her ! And her knowledge of
his secret mind will enable her to oversee and regulate the
conduct of the rest of the household towards him, so as to
guard against his being treated with an indulgence which he
can dispense with, or his receiving in silence wounds to his
feelings which might rankle. The object is, with sufferers
under every kind of conscious infirmity, to make them hardy
in mind, — saving them from being hardened. They must
know in good time that they have a difficult and humbling lot,
and what its difficulties and humiliations are, — their noblest
faculties being at the same time roused to meet them. It is
the rousing of these noble faculties which makes the hour of
confidence one of exhilaration : and when the actual occasion
of trial arises, when the cripple is left out of the cricket-match,
and the deaf child misses the joke or entertaining story, and
the hump-back hears the jibe behind him, — there is hope that
the nobler faculties will be obedient to the promised call, and
spread the calm of patience over the tumult of the sufferer's
soul.

But, while the infirm child is encouraged to take up the
endurance of his infirmity as an object and an enterprise, he
must not be allowed to dwell too much on it, nor on the pecu-
liar features of his condition ; or his heroism will pass over
into pride, and his patience into self-complacency. Life and
the world are before him, as before others ; and one circum-
stance of lot and duty, however important, must not occupy
the place of more than one, — either in his confidences with
his mother, or in his own mind. The more he is separated
from others by his infirmity, the more carefully must his inte-
rests and duties be mixed up with those of others, in the house-
hold and out of it. Companionship in every way must be
promoted all the more, and not the less, because of the eternal

CARE OF THE POWERS. — LOVE.

echo within him, "The heart knoweth its own bitterness, and
the stranger intermeddleth not with its joy."

What has been said thus far about patience will serve for
cases of sickness, as well as for other trials among children.
I may add that I think it a pity to lavish indulgence — privi-
leges— upon a sick child, for two reasons ; — that such indul-
gence is no real comfort or compensation to the suffering child,
who is too ill to enjoy it: and that it is witnessed by others,
and remembered by the patient himself when he has forgotten
his pain, so as to cause sickness to be regarded as a state of
privilege ; a persuasion likely to lead to fancies about health,
and an exaggeration of ailments. All possible tenderness, of
course, there should be, and watchfulness to amuse the mind
into forgetfulness of the body : but the less fuss and unusual
indulgence the better for the child's health of body and mind,
and the purer the lesson of patience which he may bring out
of his sickness. Illness is a great evil, little to be mitigated by
any means of diversion that can be used : and a child usually
trained to patience, may be trusted to bear the evil well, if not
misled by false promises; and it is much kinder to him to let
him rest on a quiet and steady tenderness, than to promise and
offer him indulgences which will be longed for hereafter, but
which wholly disappoint him now, and add another trial to the
many which put his patience to the proof.

CHAPTER XIV.

CARE OF THE POWERS:- — LOVE.

It appears to me, that much disappointment in the results of
education, as in other departments of life, arises from the con-
fusion we fall into about human affections, — mixing up things
which do not belong to each other, and then being disappointed

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

at a mixed result. For instance, we speak of love as if it were
one affection ; or at most of two kinds — one a passion and the
other an affection ; whereas, there are many kinds of love, as
distinct from one another as hope and patience. Besides what
is commonly called the passion of love, there are other kinds
which differ as essentially from one another as from this. It
is commonly, but as I think, hastily, supposed that a child's
love of her doll is the same affection which will be fixed here-
after on a schoolfellow, on her parents, and on suffering fellow-
creatures. It is supposed to be the same affection, employed
on different objects : and the parent is perplexed and shocked
when the little creature who cannot be parted from her doll,
show's indifference towards her family, and has no sympathy
with a beggar, or a sick neighbour. If the parents will put
away their perplexity and dismay, and set themselves to learn
from what is before their eyes, they may discover what will
comfort and direct them.

With the passion of love, as it is called, we have nothing to
do here, but to give an anecdote by the way. A little girl was
telling a story to her father, when they fell in with the kind of
perplexity I have spoken of. She told of a knight who once
loved a lady, and of all the hard and troublesome things the
knight did to gratify the wishes of the lady ; and how, at last,
when the lady did not choose to marry him, he carried her off,
and shut her up in a castle, and gave her everything he could
think of to make her happy: but she could not enjoy all these
fine things, because she pined to get home " Oh !" said the
father, " she did wish to get out, then." " Yes! she begged
and prayed of the knight to let her go home: but he loved her
so much that he would not." " Well : but you said he did
everything he could to gratify her : why was that ?" " Because
he loved her so much." " What ! he did everything to please
her because he loved her so much ; and then he would not let
her go home as she wished, because he loved her so much !
How can that be ?" The child thought for awhile, and then said
" 1 suppose he had two loves for her : and one made him do

CARE OF THE POWERS. LOVE.

almost everything that she liked ; and the other made him want
that she should do what he liked."

If parents could see thus plainly the difference between the
several kinds of love which their children should experience, it
would be well for all parties. A mother who intensely loves
her little prattler, is mortified that the child appears to have but
a very moderate love for her in return ; and she comforts her-
self with the hope that the child's affection will strengthen as
it grows, till it becomes a fair return for her own. She does
not perceive that the child already entertains an affection much
like her own, — only, not for her, but for something else. A
little girl who had to lose her leg, promised to try to lie still if
she might have her doll in her arms : and wonderfully still she
lay, clasping her doll. When it was over, the surgeon thought-
lessly said, "Now shall I cut off your doll's leg?" « Oh !
no, no !" cried the child, in an agony of mind far greater than
she had shown before : " not my doll's leg ; — don't hurt my
doll!" And she could hardly be comforted. Here was an
affection the same as the mother's, — and as strong and true :
but of a different kind from that which children can ever feel
for parents ; for it is purely instinctive, while the love of children
for parents is made up of many elements, and must slowly grow
out of not only a natural power of attachment, but a long ex-
perience of hope, reliance, veneration and gratitude.

This instinctive love is a pretty thing to witness: as in the
case of a very little child who had a passionate love of flowers.
She would silently carry out her little chair in the summer
morning, and sit down in the middle of the flower-bed, and be
overheard softly saying, << Come you little flower — open, you
little flower ! When will you open your pretty blue eye ?" This
is charming ; and so it is to see an infant fondling a kitten, or
feeding the brood of chickens, and a girl singing lullaby to her
doll. But it must ever be remembered, that this is the lowest
form of human affection till it is trained into close connection
with the higher sentiments. What it is when left to itself — and
it will too probably be left to itself by parents who are satisfied

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

with any manifestation of affection in children ; — what it is
when left to itself may be seen in some disgusting spectacles
which occasionally meet our eyes among the mature and the
old. We see it in the young mother who spoils her child —
who loves her child with so low a love, that she indulges it to
its hurt. We see it in the aged mother, who loves her manly
son as a bear loves its cub ; — only with more selfishness, for
she cannot consider his good, but lavishes ill-humour and fond-
ness on him by turns. We see it in the man who gives his
mind to the comfort of his horse ; and never a look or a
word to a hungry neighbour. We see it in a woman who
opens her arms to every dog or cat that comes near her, whose
eye brightens, and whose cheek mantles while she feeds her
canaries, though she never had a friendship, nor cares for any
human being but such as are under five years old.

Thus low is this instinctive affection when left to itself. But
it is inestimable when linked on to other and higher kinds of
love, and especially to that which is the highest of all, and
worthy to gather into itself all the rest, — benevolence. It is
easy to form this link when its formation is desired ; and it is
terribly easy to neglect it when its importance is not perceived.
The child must be led to desire the good of the cat, or bird, or
doll, to the sacrifice of its own inclinations. It must not hurt
pussy, or throw dolly into a corner, (every child believing that
dolly can feel,) nor frighten the bird : and moreover, it must be
made to discharge punctually, even to its own inconvenience,
the duty of feeding the live favourite, and cherishing the doll.
This leads on naturally to a cherishing and forbearing love of
the baby-brother or sister : and next, perhaps, the parents may
be surprised by an offer of affection in sickness which never
showed itself while they were in health. A child who receives
caresses carelessly, or runs away from them to caress the kitten,
(which, perhaps, runs away in its turn,) will come on tiptoe to
his mother's knee when she is ill, and stroke her face, or nurse
her foot in his lap, or creep up into her easy chair, and nestle
there quietly for an hour at a time ; and yet perhaps this same

CARE OF THE POWERS. — LOVE.

child will appear as indifferent as before when his mother is well
again, and does not seem to want his good offices.

From home, the affection may next be led a little further
abroad. This must be done very cautiously, and the expan-
sion of benevolence by no means hurried or made a task of.
I knew a little girl who, at four years old, was full of domestic
benevolence — capable of denying herself noise and amusement
on fitting occasions, and never happier than when waiting on
and cherishing a sick person. One day she seemed so much
interested about a poor woman who had come to beg, that her
mother took her into consultation about what could be done
for the woman and her children. When told how nearly naked
the poor children were, and how they had no more clothes to
put on, though the weather was growing colder and colder, she
was asked whether she would not like to give her blue frock
to one of them. In a low earnest voice, she said " No." The
case was again represented to her ; and when, with some little
shrinking, she again said « No," her mother saw that she had
gone rather too far, and had tried the young faculty of benevo-
lence beyond its strength. She watched and waited, and is
repaid. In her daughter, warm domestic affections co-exist
with a more than ordinary benevolence.

This benevolence is the third form in which we have already
seen what is called love. Can anything be more clearly marked
than the difference between these three : — the love that leads to
marriage ; fondness for objects which can be idolized ; and
benevolence which has no fondness in it, but desires the diiiu-
sion of happiness, and acts independently of personal regards?
None of these yield the sort of affection which the heart of the
parent desires, and which is essential to family happiness. A
child may kill its pet bird, or cat, with kindness, and go out
into the street in the early morning, with its halfpenny in its
hand (as I have known a child do) to do good with it to some-
body ; — a child may have these two kinds of love strong in
him, and yet show but a weak attachment to the people about
him. This attachment is another kind of love from those we

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

have been considering. It is all-important to the character of
the individual, and to the happiness of the family circle : and
it is therefore of consequence that its nature should be under-
stood, and its exercise wisely cared for.

It is some time before the infant shows attachment to any
one. There are many signs of hope and fear in an infant be-
fore it gives any token of affection ; its arms are held out first
to its nurse ; and she usually continues the one to whom the
child clings, and from whom it will not be separated. Beyond
the nurse, the child's attachments sometimes appear unaccount-
able. It will be happy with some one person in the house, and
make a difficulty of going to any one else : and the reason of
this may not be plain to anybody. Happy is the mother if she
be the one ; and a severe trial it is to a loving mother when
she is not the one. Of course, if the misfortune be owing to
any fault in herself, — if she be irritable, stern, or in "any way
teasing to the child, — she cannot wonder that he does not love
her. If she be tender, gentle, playful, and wise, and still her
child loves some one else in the house better, it is a sore trial,
certainly ; but it must be made the best of. Of course, the
mother will strive to discover what it is in another person that
attaches the child ; and if she can attain the quality, she will.
But it is probably that which cannot be attained by express
efforts, — a power of entering into the little mind, and meeting
its thoughts and feelings. Some persons have this power natu-
rally much more than others ; and practice may have given
them great facility in using it ; wThile the sense of inexperience,
and the strong anxiety that a young mother has, may easily be
a restraint on her faculties in dealing with her child. I have
heard the mothers of large families declare (in the most pri-
vate conversation) in so many instances, that their younger
children are of a higher quality than the older, and this from
an age so early as to prevent the difference being attributed to
experience in teaching, that I have been led to watch and think
on the subject : and I think that one powerful cause is that the
mother has naturally more freedom and playfulness and tact in

CARE OF THE POWERS. — LOVE.

her intercourse with her younger children than with the elder,
and thereby fixes their attachment more strongly : and there
are no bounds to the good which arises from strong affections
in a child. Happy the mother who is the object of her child's
strongest love from the beginning ! — happy, that is, if she makes
a good use of her privilege. She must never desire more love
than the child has to give. The most that it can give will be
less than she would like, and far less than her own for it : but
she will not obtain more, but only endanger what she has, by
making the child conscious of his affections, and by requiring
tokens which do not manifest themselves spontaneously. It
should be enough for a mother that her child comes to her with
his little troubles and pleasures, and shows by his whole beha-
viour that she is of more importance to him than any one else
in the world. If it be so, there will be times when he will
spring into her lap, and throw his arms round her neck, and
give her the thrilling kiss that she longs to have every day and
every hour. But the sweetness of these caresses will be lost
when they cease to be spontaneous ; and the child will leave
off springing into the lap, if it is to be teased for kisses when
there. There are but few products of the human mind which
are to be had good upon compulsion ; and affection least of
all. I knew a little boy wrho wras brought home from being at
nurse in the country, and showrn to his conscientious, anxious,
but most formal mother. The child clung to his nurse's neck,
hid his face on her shoulder, and screamed violently. But his
mother's voice was heard above his noise, saying solemnly,
" Look at me, my dear. Nurse is going away, and you will
not see her any more. You must love me now." Whether
she thus gained her child's love, my readers may conjecture.

The mother who is first in her child's affection is under the
serious responsibility of imparting the treasure to others. She
takes her whole household into her own heart ; and she must
open her little one's heart to take in all likewise. She must
associate all in turn in his pursuits and pleasures, till his love

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

has spread through the house, and he can be happy and che-
rished in every corner of it.

The mother who sees some one else more beloved than her-
self,— the servant, perhaps, or an elder child of her own, —
must not lose heart, much less temper, or all is lost. It is pos-
sible that her turn may never come : but it is far more probable
that it will, if she knows how to wait for it. She must go on
doing her part as perseveringly and, if it may be, as cheerfully
as if her heart was satisfied ; and sooner or later the child will
discover, never to forget, what a friend she is. Moreover, if
her mind and manner are not such as to win a child in his early
infancy, they may suit his needs at a later stage of his mind. I
have observed that the mothers who are most admirable at some
seasons of their children's lives fall off at others. I have seen
a mother who had extraordinary skill in bringing out and train-
ing her children's faculties before they reached their teens, and
who was all-sufficient for them then, fail them sadly as a friend
and companion in the important years which follow seventeen.
And I have seen a mother who could make no way with her
children in their early years, and who keenly felt how nearly
indifferent they were to her, while her whole soul and mind
were devoted to them, — I have seen such a mother idolized by her
daughters when they became wise and worthy enough to have her
for a friend. I mention these things for comfoit and encourage-
ment ; and who is more in need of comfort and encouragement
than the mother who, loving her child as mothers should, meets
with not only a less than adequate, but a less than natural
return ?

There is one case more sad and more solemn than this ; the
case of the unloving and unloved child. There are some few
human beings in whom the power of attachment is so weak that
they stand isolated in the world, and seem doomed to a her-
mit existence amidst the very throng of human life. If such
are neglected, they are lost. They must sink into a slough of
selfishness, and perish. And none are so likely to be neglected

CARE OF THE POWERS. VENERATION.

as those who neither love nor win love. If such an one is not
neglected, he may become an able and useful being, after all ;
and it is for the parents to try this, in a spirit of reverence for
his mysterious nature, and of pity for the privations of his heart.
They will search out and cherish, by patient love, such little
power of attachment as he has ; and they will perhaps find him
capable of general kindliness, and the wide interests of benevo-
lence, though the happiness of warm friendships and family
endearment is denied him. Such an one can never take his
place among the highest rank of human beings, nor can know
the sweetest happiness that life can yield. But by the generous
love of his parents, and of all whom they can influence to do
his nature justice, his life may be made of great value to him-
self and others, and he may become respected for his qualities,
as well as for his misfortune.

CHAPTER XV.

CARE OF THE POWERS. — VENERATION.

Among the great blessings which are shared by the whole
human race, one of the chief is its universal power of vene-
ration.

I call this a universal power, because there is no human
being, (except an idiot,) in whom it is not inherent from his birth :
and I think I may say, that there is none in whom it does not
exist, more or less, till his death. Unhappy influences may
check or pervert it : but there is no reason to believe that it
can be utterly destroyed. The grinning scoffer, who laughs at
everything serious, who despises every man but himself, and
who is insensible to the wonders and charms of nature, yet
stands in awe of something, — if it be nothing better than rank
and show, or brute force, or the very power of contempt in

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

others which he values so much in himself. Send for such an
one into the presence of the Queen, or bring him to the bar of
the House of Commons, or ask him to dinner in a sumptuous
palace, and, however far gone he may be in contempt, he will
be awe-struck. Set him down face to face with a man who
makes game of every thing he does not understand, (and that
will be almost everything that exists,) and he will have a re-
spect for that man. If you can bring his mind into contact
with any objects low enough to excite his degraded faculty of
veneration, you will find that the faculty is still there. It ap-
pears to be indeed inextinguishable.

We have, as usual, two things to take heed to in regard to
this great and indispensable power of the mind. First, to take
care that the power neither runs riot, nor is neglected. And
next, to direct it to its proper objects.

I. The faculty, like all others, is of unequal strength in dif-
ferent people ; — in children as well as in grown persons. We
see one man who seems to have no self-reliance, or freedom
of action in any thing; whose life is one long ague-fit of super-
stition, from that cowardly dread of God which he means for
religion : who takes anybody's word for everything, from a
fear of using his own faculties, and who is overwhelmed in
the presence of rank, wealth, or ability superior to his own.
We see another man careless, and contemptuous, and self-
willed, from a want of feeling of what there is in the universe,
and in his fellow-men superior to his faculties, and mysterious
to his understanding. And in the merest infants, we may dis-
cern, by careful watching, a difference no less marked. One
little creature will reach boldly after everything it sees, and
buffet its play-things and the people about it, and make itself
heard and attended to whenever it so pleases, and has to be
taught and trained to be quiet and submissive. And another of
the same age will watch with a shrinking wonder whatever is
new or mysterious, and be shy before strangers, and has to be
taught and trained to examine things for itself, and to make
free with the people about it. Such being the varieties in

CARE OF THE POWERS. — VENERATION.

the strength of the natural faculty, the training of it must vary
accordingly.

As I have said before, no human faculty needs to be re-
pressed ; because no human faculty is in itself bad. Where
any one power appears to be excessive, we are not to set to
work to vex and mortify it : but rather, to bring up to it those
antagonist faculties which ought to balance it, and which, in
such a case, clearly want strengthening. If, for instance, a
child appears to have too much of this faculty of Veneration —
if it fancies a mystery in everything that happens, and yields
too easily to its companions, and loves ghost stories which yet
make it ill, and is always awe-struck and dreaming about
something or other — that child is not to be laughed at, nor to
be led to despise or make light of what it cannot understand.
That child has not too much Veneration : for no one can ever
have too much of the faculty. The mischief lies in his having
too little of something else ; — too little self-respect ; too little
hope ; too little courage.

Let him continue to exercise and enjoy freely his faculty of
Wonder. His mother should tell him of things that are really
wonderful, and past finding out: and as he grows old enough,
let her point out to him that all things in nature are wonderful,
and past our finding out, from the punctuality of the great sun
and blessed moon, to the springing of the blade of grass. Let
her sympathize in his feeling that there is something awful in
the thunder-storm, and in the incessant roll of the sea. Let
her express for him, as far as may be, his unutterable sense of
the weakness and ignorance of child or man in the presence of
the mighty, ever-moving universe, and of the awful, unknown
Power which is above and around us, wherever we turn. Let
her show respect to every sort of superiority, according to its
kind — to old age, to scholarship, to skill of every sort, to social
rank and office; 'and above all, to the superiority that good-
ness gives. Let her thus cherish and indulge her child's na-
tural faculty, and permit no one else to thwart it. But she
must give her utmost pains to exercise, at the same time, his

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

inquiring and knowing faculties, and his courage and self-
respect. Among the many wonders which she cannot explain,
there are many which she can. He should be encouraged to
understand as much as anybody understands, and especially
of those things which he is most likely to be afraid of. He
should be made to feel what power is given to him by such
knowledge : and led to respect this power in himself as
he would in any one else. I knew a little child whose rever-
ence for Nature was so strong as almost to overpower some
other faculties. She was town-bred : and whenever it chanced
that she was out in the country for more than a common walk,
she was injuriously excited, all day long. She was not only
in a state of devout adoration to the Maker of all she saw :
but she felt towards the trees, and brooks, and corn-fields as if
they were alive, and she did not dare to interfere with them.
One day, some companions carried home some wild straw-
berry roots, for their gardens, and persuaded her to do the
same. She did so in a great tremor. Before she had planted
her roots, she had grown fond of them, as being dependent on
her; and she put them into the ground very tenderly and affec-
tionately. As it was now near noon, of course she found her
strawberries withered enough when she next went to look at
them, as they lay drooping in the hot sun. She bethought
herself, in her consternation, of a plan for them : ran in for a
little chair ; put it over the roots, stuffing up with grass every
space which could let the sunshine in ; watered the roots, and
left them, with the sense of having done a very daring thing.
It was sunset before she could go to her garden again. When
she removed the chair, there were the strawberries, fresh and
strong, with leaves of the brightest green ! It was a rapturous
moment to this superstitious child — this, in which she felt that
she had meddled with the natural growth of something, and
with success. And it was a profitable lesson. She took to
gardening, and to trying her power over Nature in other ways,
losing some superstition at every step into the world of know-
ledge, and gaining self-respect, (a highly necessary direction

CARE OF THE POWERS. — VENERATION.

of the spirit of reverence,) with every proof of the power which
knowledge confers.

What the parent has to do for the child in whom the senti-
ment of Reverence appears disproportionate, is to give him
Power in himself, in every possible way, that he may cease to
be overwhelmed with the sense of power out of himself on
every hand. If he can become possessed of power of Con-
science, his religious fear will become moderated to wholesome
awe. If he can become possessed of power of understanding,
the mysteries of Nature will stimulate instead of depressing his
mind. If he can attain to power of sympathy, he will see men
as they are, and have a fellowT- feeling with them, through all
the circumstances of rank and wealth which once wore a false
glory in his eyes. If he can attain a due power of self-reliance,
he will learn that his own wonderful faculties and unbounded
moral capacities should come in for some share of his rever-
ence, and be brought bravely into action in the universe,
instead of being left idle by the wayside, making obeisance
incessantly to every thing that passes by, while they ought to
be up and doing.

What should be done with the pushing, fearless child, who
seems to stand in awe of nobody, is plain enough. As I have
said, he reverences something : for no human being is without
the faculty. His parents must find out what it is that does
excite his awe ; and, however strange may be the object, they
must sympathize in the feeling. I have known a fearless child
of three reverence his brother of four and a half. We may
laugh ; but it was no laughing matter, but a very interesting
one, to see the little fellow watch every movement of his brother,
give him credit for profound reasons in every thing he did,
and humbly imitate as much as he could. Supposing such a
child to be deficient generally in reverence, it would be a
tremendous mistake in the parents to check this one exercise
of it. They should, in such a case, carefully observe the rights
of seniority among the children ; avoid laughing at the follies
of the elder, or needlessly pointing out his faults, in the pre-

100

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

sence of the younger, while they daily strive to raise the
standard of both. They must also lead the imagination of the
little one to contemplate things which he must feel to be at
once real and beyond his comprehension. They must, at seri-
ous moments, lead his mind higher than he was aware it would
go, even till it sinks under his sense of ignorance. They must
carry his thoughts down into depths which he never dreamed
of, and where the spirit of awe will surely lay hold upon him.
I do not believe there is any child who cannot be impressed
with a serious, plain account of some of the wonders of nature ;
with a report, ever so meagre, of the immensity of the heavens,
whose countless stars, the least of which we cannot understand,
are for ever moving, in silent mystery, before our eyes. I do
not believe there are many children that may not be deeply
impressed by the great mystery of brute life, if their attention
be duly fixed upon it. Let the careless and confident child
be familiarized, not only with the ant and the bee for their
wonderful ^instinct, but with all living creatures as inhabitants
of the same world as himself, and at the same time, of a world
of their own, as we have ; a world of ideas, and emotions, and
pleasures, which we know nothing whatever about, — any more
than they know the world of our minds. I do not believe there
is any child who would not look up with awe to a man or
woman who had done a noble act, — saved another from fire
or drowning, or told the truth to his own loss or peril, or visited
the sick in plague-time, or the guilty in jail. I do not believe
there is any child who would not look up with awe to a man
who was known to be wise beyond others ; to have seen far
countries ; to have read books in many languages ; or to have
made discoveries among the stars, or about how earth, air, and
water are made. If it be so, who is there that may not be
impressed at last by the evident truth that all that men have yet
known and done is as nothing compared with what remains to
be known and done : that the world-wide traveller is but the
half-fledged bird flitting round the nest ; that the philosopher is
but as the ant wrhich spends its little life in bringing home half

CARE OF THE POWERS. — VENERATION.

101

a dozen grains of wheat ; and that the most benevolent man is
grieved that he can do so little for the solace of human misery,
feeling himself like the child who tries to wipe away his brother's
tears, but cannot heal his grief! Who is there that cannot be
impressed by the grave pointing out of the mystery of life, and
the vastness of knowledge which lie around and before him ;
and by the example of him who did none but noble and gene-
rous deeds, and bore the fiercest sufferings, and felt contempt
for nothing under heaven ! How can it but excite reverence
to show that he, even he, was himself full of reverence, and
incapable of contempt!

II. Having said thus much about nourishing and balancing
the faculty of reverence, I need only point out the directions
in which it should be trained.

The point on which a child's veneration will first naturally
fix will be Power. It must be the parents' first business to fix
that veneration on Authority, instead of mere power. Instead
of the power to shut up in a closet, or to whip, the child must
reverence the authority which reveals itself in calm control and
gentle command. The parents must be the first objects of the
child's disciplined reverence. Even here, in this first clear
case, the faculty cannot work well without sympathy: and the
child must have sympathy from the parents themselves. He
must see that his parents respect each other ; that they consider
one another's authority unquestionable in the household ; and
that they reverence their parent — if Granny be still among them.

Beyond this, there is no reason why the sympathy between
parents and children should not be simple, constant, and true,
as to their objects of reverence.

The child may revere as very wise, some person whom the
parents know not to be so ; but they may join their child in
revering the wisdom which they know to be his ideal. The
child may go into an enthusiasm about some questionable
hero, — the exemplar of some virtue which the parents feel to
be of a rather low order ; but they will sympathize in the
homage to virtue — which is the main point. They may be

102

nousEnoLD education.

secretly amused at their child's reverence for the constable:
but they feel the same in regard to that of which the constable
is the representative to the child — the Law. They will lead
him on with them in their advancing reverence for knowledge ;
for that moral and intellectual knowledge united which con-
stitute wisdom ; and will thus turn away his regards from
dwelling too much on outward distinctions, which might other-
wise inspire undue awe.

Yet nearer will their hearts draw to his in veneration for
goodness, for intrepid truthfulness, for humble fidelity, for
cheerful humility, for gentle charity. And at the ultimate
point, their hearts must become one with his ; in the presence
of the Unknown ; for there we are all, the oldest and the
youngest, the wisest and the weakest, but little children, wait-
ing to learn, and desiring to obey.

CHAPTER XVI.

CARE OF THE POWERS. TRUTHFULNESS.

We come now to consider a moral quality whose importance
cannot be overrated, yet about which there is more unsettled-
ness of view and perplexity of heart among parents than about,
perhaps, any other. Every parent is anxious about the truth-
fulness of his child : but whether this virtue is to come by
nature, or by gift, or by training, many an one is sorely perplexed
to know. So few children are truthful in all respects and
without variation, that we may well doubt whether the quality
can be inborn. And the cases are so many of children other-
wise good — even conscientious in other respects — who talk at
random, and say things utterly untrue, that I do not wonder
that those who hold low views of human nature consider this a

CARE OF THE POWERS. — TRUTHFULNESS. 103

constitutional vice, and a hereditary curse. I am very far from
believing this; and I will plainly say what I do believe.

I believe that the requisites of a habit of truthfulness lie in
the brain of every child that is born ; but that the truthfulness
itself has to be taught, as the speech which is to convey it has
to be taught ; by helping the child to the use of his natural
powers. The child has by nature the ear, the lungs, the
tongue, the palate, and the various and busy mind, — the requi-
sites for speech : but he does not speak unless incited by hearing
it from others, and by being himself led on to attain the power.
In a somewhat resembling manner, every child has more or less
natural sense of what is just in feeling and action, and what is
real in nature, and how to present his ideas to another mind.
Here are the requisites to truthfulness of speech : but there is
much to be learned, and much to overcome, before the practice
of truthfulness can be completely formed and firmly established.
If the case is once understood, we shall know how to set about
our work, and may await the event without dismay in the
worst cases, though in all with the most careful vigilance.

Is it not true that different nations, even Christian nations,
vary more in regard to truthfulness than perhaps any other moral
quality ? Is it not true that one or two continental nations fall
below us in regard to this quality, while they far excel us in kind-
liness and cheerfulness of temper, and pleasantness of manners?
And does not this difference arise from their thinking kindliness
and cheerfulness more important than sincerity and accuracy of
speech? And is not our national superiority in regard to the
practice of truth chiefly owing to its being our national point of
honour, and our fixed supposition as a social habit ? Do not
these facts tend to show that the practice of truthfulness is the
result of training ? and that we may look for it with confidence
as the result of good training ?

Now, what are the requisites, and what the difficulties that
we have to deal with ?

Has not every child a keen sense of right and justice, which
he shows from the earliest time that he can manifest any moral

104 HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

judgment at all? He may be injurious and unjust to another,
from selfishness and passion : but can he not feel injustice done
to himself with the infallibility of an instinct, and claim his
rights with the acuteness of a lawyer? Is there anything more
surprising to us in the work of education than every child's
sense of his rights, and need of unerring justice, till he is far
enough advanced generously to dispense with it ? Here we have
the perception of moral truth for one requisite.

Another requisite is such good perceptive power as informs
a child truly of outward facts. There is no natural power
which varies more in different subjects than this. One child
sees everything as it is, within its range. Another child sees
but little, being taken up with what it thinks or imagines. A
third sees wrongly, being easily deceived about colours and
forms, and the order in which things happen, from its senses
being dull, or its faculties of observation being indolent. I
have known a child declare an object to be green when it was
gray ; or a man in a field to be a giant ; or a thing to have hap-
pened in the morning which took place in the afternoon : and
one need but observe how witnesses in a court of justice vary
in their testimony about small matters regarding which they are
quite disinterested, to see that the same imperfection in the per-
ceptive faculties goes on into mature age. It is plain that these
faculties must be exercised and trained very carefully, if the
child is to be made accurate in its statements.

Another and most important requisite is that the child should,
from the beginning, believe that truthfulness is a duty. This
belief must be given on authority : for the obligation to truth
is not, as I have said, instinctive, but a matter of reasoning,
such as a child is not capable of entering into. He will re-
ceive it, easily and permanently, from the assurance and ex-
ample of his parents ; but he does not, in his earliest years,
see it for himself. An affectionate child, thinking of a beloved
person, will tell his parent that he has just seen and talked with
that person, who is known to be a hundred miles off. The
parent is shocked: and truly there is cause for distress; for it

CARE OF THE POWERS. TRUTHFULNESS.

105

is plain that the child has as yet no notion of the duty of truth-
fulness ; but the parent must not, in his fear, aggravate the
case, and run into the conclusion that the child loves lying.
The case probably is that he says what is pleasant to his affec-
tions, without being aware that there is a more serious matter
to be attended to first : a thing which he may hereafter be
shocked not to have known. I happen to remember at this
moment, three persons, now conscientiously truthful, who in
early childhood were in the habit of telling, not only wonder-
ful dreams, but most wonderful things that they had seen in
their walks, on the high-road or the heath ; giants, castles,
beautiful ladies riding in forests, and so on. In all these cases,
the parents were deeply distressed, and applied themselves
accordingly, first to check the practice of narration, and next
to exercise the perceptive and reflective powers of the children,
so as to enable them to distinguish clearly the facts they saw
from the visions they called up before their mind's eye. The
appeal to conscience they left for cases where their child had
clearer notions of right and wrong. Any one of these children
would, I believe, at that very time, have suffered much rather
than say what he knew to be false, from any motive of per-
sonal fear or hope. As I said, all these three are now eminently
honourable and trustworthy persons.

The chief final requisite is, of course, conscientiousness.
When the child becomes capable of self-knowledge and self-
government, this alone can be relied on for such a confirmation
of the habit of truth telling, or such a correction of any ten-
dency to inaccuracy, as may carry the young probationer
through all temptations from within and from without, steady
in the practice of strict truth. When all these requisites are
combined, — when the child feels truly, sees truly, and is aware
of the duty of speaking truly, the practice of truthfulness be-
comes as natural and unfailing as if it originated in an instinct.

I remember an instance of the strange, unbalanced, unprin-
cipled state of mind of a child, who was capable of telling a
lie, and persisting in it, at the very time that she was conscien-

106

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

tious to excess about some of her duties, and her sense of
justice (in regard to her own rights) ran riot in her. It is an
odd and a sad story ; but instructive from its very strangeness.
She was asked by her mother one day whether she had not
played battledore and shuttlecock before breakfast. From some
levity or inattention at the moment, she said "No," and was
immediately about to correct herself when her mother's severe
countenance roused her pride and obstinacy, and she wickedly
repeated her denial. Here it was temper that was the snare.
There was nothing to be afraid of in saying the truth, no rea-
son why she should not. Bat she had a temper of such pride
and obstinacy that she was aware of even enjoying being pun-
ished, as giving her an opportunity of standing out ; while the
least wTord of appeal to her affections or her conscience, if
uttered before her temper was roused, would melt her in a
moment. The question was repeated in many forms ; and still
she, with a terrified and miserable conscience, persisted that
she had not played battledore that morning ; whereas her mo-
ther had heard it, and knew from her companion who it was
that had played. The lying child wTas sent to her own room,
where she wTas in consternation enough till a mistake of man-
agement was made which spoiled everything, and destroyed
the lesson to her. She was sent for to read aloud, before the
family, the story of Ananias and Sapphira. She was sobbing
so that the reading was scarcely possible, till her thoughts took
a turn which speedily dried her tears, and filled her with an
insolent indignation which excluded all chance of repentance.
She well knew the story of Ananias and Sapphira ; and she
happened to have a great admiration of the plan of the early
Christians, of throwing all their goods into a common stock.
She knew that the sin of Ananias and his wife lay chiefly in
the selfish fraud which was the occasion of their lie, and that
their case was therefore no parallel for hers : and in the indig-
nation of having it supposed that she had sinned in their way,
— she who longed above everything to have been an early
Christian (a pretty subject, truly !) — that she could be thought

CARE OP THE POWERS. — TRUTHFULNESS. 107

silly enough to suppose that they were struck dead for their
fib, and not for their fraud, — in this insolent indignation she
put her one sin out of sight, and felt herself an injured person.
This adventure certainly did not strengthen her regard to truth.
She dared not state her objection to the story in her own case: and
perhaps she also disdained to do it : she remained sullen ; and
her mother had at last to let the matter drop.

This was a case to make any parent's heart sink : but the
worse the case, the more instructive to us now. Here was
sufficient moral sense and insight, in one direction, to bear an
appeal, if any had been made. Disgrace was the worst possible
resort, and especially when untenable ground was taken for it.
The best resort would have been a tender and solemn private
conversation, in which the entanglement of passionate feelings
might have been unravelled, and the seat of moral disease have
been explored. When a moral disease so fearful as this appears,
parents should never rest till they have found the seat of it, and
convinced the perilled child of the deadly nature of its malady.
In this case, the child was certainly not half-convinced, and
morally worse after the treatment, while the material for con-
viction, repentance, and reformation, was in her.

The method of training must depend much on the organiza-
tion of the child in one respect ; whether he is ingenuous and
frank, or reserved and (I must say it) — sly. Some children are
certainly prone to slyness by nature ; but there is no reason
why, under a wise training, they should not be as honourable
as the most ingenuous soul that ever was born. And they may
even, when thoroughly principled, be more reliable than some
open-minded persons, from being more circumspect.

There is something very discouraging in seeing little creatures
who ought to be all fearlessness and confidence, hiding things
under their pinafores, or slipping out at the back-door for a
walk which they might have honestly by asking for it ; or put-
ting roundabout questions when plain ones would do; or
keeping all their little concerns to themselves while spending
their whole lives among brothers and sisters. If one looks for-

108

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

ward to their maturity, one recoils from the image of what they
will be. But they must not grow up with these tendencies.
Their fault may turn to virtue, under wise and gentle treatment.
Their confidence must be tenderly won, and their innocent
desires gratified, while every slyness is quietly shown to be as
unavailing as it is disagreeable, and every movement towards
ingenuousness cheerfully and lovingly encouraged. The child's
imagination must be engaged on behalf of everything that is
noble, heroic, and openly glorious before the eyes of men. His
conscience and affections must be appealed to, not in words,
but by a long course of love and trust, to return the trust he
receives. Of course, the parental example must be that of per-
fect openness and simplicity ; for the sight of mystery and
concealment in the house is enough to make even the ingenuous
child sly, through its faculty of imitation, and its ambition to be
old and wise; and much more will it hinder the expansion of
a reserved and cunning child. If these things be all attended
to — if he sees only what is open, free, and simple, and receives
treatment which is open, free, and encouraging, while it con-
vinces him of a sagacity greater than his own, there is every
hope that he will yield himself to the kindly influences dispensed
to him, and find for himself the comfort and security of ingenu-
ousness, and turn his secretive ingenuity to purposes of intellec-
tual exercise, where it may do much good and no harm. That
ingenuity and sagacity may be well employed among the
secrets of history, the complexities of the law, or the mysteries
of mechanical construction or chemical analysis, whieh may
make a man vicious and untrustworthy, if allowed to work in
his moral nature, and to shroud his daily conduct.

As for the training of the candid and ingenuous child, it is of
course far easier and pleasanter ; but it must not be supposed
that no care is required to make him truthful. He must be
trained to accuracy, or all his ingenuousness will not save him
from saying many a thing which is not true. Dr. Johnson
advised that if a child said he saw a thing out of one window',
when in fact he saw it out of another, he should be set right.

CARE OF THE POWERS. — TRUTHFULNESS.

109

I think the Dr. was right; and that a child should consider no
kind of misstatement a trifle, seeing always that the parents do
not. An open-hearted and ingenuous child is likely to be a
great talker ; and is in that way more liable to inaccuracy of
statement than a reserved child. Oh ! let his parents guard
him well, by making him early the guardian of the " unruly
little member" which may, by neglect, deprive him of the
security and peace which should naturally spread from his
innocent heart through his open and honest life ! Let them
help him to add perfect truth of speech to his native truth of
heart, and their promising child cannot but be a happy man.

It may seem wearisome to say so often over that the example
of the parents is the chief influence in the training of the child ;
but how can I help saying it when the fact is so ? Is it not
true that when a father of a family comes home and talks before
his children, every word sinks into their minds ? If he talks
banter — banter so broad that his elder children laugh and under-
stand, how should the little one on its mother's lap fail to be
perplexed and misled ? It knows nothing about banter, and it
looks up seriously in its father's face, and believes all he says,
and carries away all manner of absurd ideas. Or, if told not
to believe what he hears, how is he to know henceforth what
to believe ; and how can he put trust in his father's words?
The turn for exaggeration which many people have is morally
bad for the whole family. It is only the youngest perhaps who will
believe that " it rains cats and dogs" because somebody says so ;
but a whole family maybe misled by habitual exaggeration of
statement. The consequence is clear. Either they will take up the
habit, from imitation of father or mother, or they will learn to dis-
trust their fluent parent. But how safe is everything made by that
established habit of truth in a household which acts like an instinct !
If the parents are, as by a natural necessity, always accurate in
what they say, or, if mistaken, thankful to be set right, and eager
to rectify their mistake, the children thrive in an atmosphere of
such sincerity and truth : and any one of them to whom truth-
fulness may be constitutionally difficult, has the best chance for

110

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

the strengthening of his weakness. Such an one must have sunk
under the least aggravation of his infirmity by the sin of his
parents : and the probability is, that the whole household would
have gone down into moral ruin together ; for it cannot be
expected that any natural aptitude for truth in children should
improve, or even continue, if discouraged by the example of
the parents who ought to hail it as a blessing upon their house.

Of all happy households, that is the happiest, where falsehood
is never thought of. All peace is broken up when once it
appears that there is a liar in the house. All comfort is gone, when
suspicion has once entered ; when there must be reserve in talk,
and reservation in belief. Anxious parents, who are aware of
the pains of suspicion, will place generous confidence in their
children, and receive what they say freely, unless there is
strong reason to distrust the truth of any one. If such an
occasion should happily arise, they must keep the suspicion
from spreading as long as possible ; and avoid disgracing their
poor child, while there is any chance of his cure by their con-
fidential assistance. He should have their pity and assiduous
help, as if he were suffering under some disgusting bodily dis-
order. If he can be cured, he will become duly grateful for
the treatment. If the endeavour fails, means must of course be
taken to prevent his example doing harm : and then, as I said, the
family peace is broken up, because the family confidence is gone.

I fear that, from some cause or another, there are but few
large families where every member is altogether truthful.
Some who are not morally guilty, are intellectually incapable
of accuracy. But where all are so organized and so trained
as to be wholly reliable, in act and word, they are a light to
all eyes, and a joy to all hearts. They are a public benefit ;
for they are a point of general reliance : and they are privately
blessed, within and without. Without, their life is made easy
by universal trust : and within their home and their hearts,
they have the security of rectitude, and the gladness of inno-
cence. If we do but invoke wisdom, she will come, and mul-
tiply such homes in our land.

CONSCIENTIOUSNESS.

Ill

CHAPTER XVII.

CONSCIENTIOUSNESS.

We come now to the greatest and noblest of the Moral
Powers of Man ; to that power which makes him quite a differ-
ent order of being from any other that we know of, and which
is the glory and crown of his existence : — his Conscientious-
ness. The universal endowment of men with this power is
the true bond of brotherhood of the human race. Any race
of beings who possess in common the highest quality of which
any of them are capable, are brothers, however much they may
differ in all other respects, and however little some of them
may care about this brotherhood. For those who do care
about it, how clear it is, and how very interesting to trace !
How plain it is that while men in different parts and ages of
the world differ widely as to what is right, they all have some-
thing in them which prompts them to do what they believe to
be right ! Here is a little boy, permitted to try what he can
get by selling five shillings' worth of oranges : he points out
to the lady who is buying his last half dozen, that two of them

are spotted There was Regulus, the Roman general, who

was taken prisoner by the enemy, the Carthaginians. He was
trusted to go to Rome, to treat for an exchange of prisoners,
on his promise that he would return to Carthage, — which he
knew was returning to death, — if the Roman senate would not
grant an exchange of prisoners. He persuaded the Roman
senate not to agree to the exchange, which he believed would
not be for the advantage of Rome : and then he went back to
Carthage and to death. There is, at this day, the South Sea
Islander, — the young wife who has been told that it is pious
and right to give her first child to the gods. She has in her
all a mother's feelings, all the love which women long to lavish
on her first babe : but she desires that the infant should be
strangled as soon as born, because she thinks it her duty.

112

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

Now, this poor creature is truly the sister of the other two,
though her superstition is horrible, and the infanticide it leads
to is a great crime. She is shockingly ignorant, and her mind
is not of that high order which would perceive that there must
be something wrong in going against nature in this way : but,
for all that, she is conscientious ; and by her conscientiousness
she is truly a sister in heart to the honourable Roman general,
and the honest orange-seller. What she needs is knowledge :
and what the whole human race wants is knowledge, to bring
the workings of this great power into harmony all over the world.
At present, we see men in one place feeding, and in another
place burning one another, — because they think they ought.
In one place, we see a man with seventy wives, — in another,
a man with one wife, — and in another, a man remaining a
bachelor all his life ; and each one equally supposing that he is
doing what is right. The evil everywhere is in the want of
clear views of what is right. This is an evil which may and
will be remedied, we may hope, in the course of ages. There
is nothing that we may not hope while the power to desire and
do what is right is common to all mankind, — is given to them
as an essential part of the human frame.

It does not follow, of course, that this power is equal in all.
All but idiots have it, more or less ; but it varies, in different
individuals, quite as much as any other power. No power is
more dependent on care and cultivation for its vigour: but
none varies more from the very beginning. Some of the worst
cases of want of rectitude that I have known have been in per-
sons so placed, as that everybody naturally supposed they must
be good, and trusted them accordingly. I have known a girl,
brought up by highly principled relatives, in a house where
nothing but good was seen or heard of, turn out so faulty as to
compel one to see that her power of conscientiousness was the
weakest she had. She had some of it. She was uneasy, —
truly and not hypocritically, — if she did not read a portion of
the Bible every day at a certain hour. She was plain, even to
prudery, in her dress : she truly honoured old age, and could

CONSCIENTIOUSNESS.

113

humble herself before it : and she studiously, and from a sense
of duty, administered to the wishes of the elder members of
the family, in all matters of arrangement and manners. But
that was all. She was tricky to a degree I could never esti-
mate or comprehend. Her little plots and deceptions were
without number and without end. Her temper was bad, and
she took no pains whatever to mend it, but spent all her exer-
ertions in making people as miserable as possible by her vin-
dictiveness. In love matters, she reached a point of malice
beyond belief, torturing people's feelings, and getting them
into scrapes, with a gratification to her own bad mind which
could not be concealed under her demure solemnity of manner.
Enough of her! I will only observe that, though she was
brought up by good people, it does not follow that she was
judiciously managed. The result shows that she was not. A
perfectly wise guardian would have seen that her faculty of
conscientiousness wanted strengthening, and would have found
safe and innocent employment for those powers of secretive-
ness and defiance, and that inordinate love of approbation,
which, as it was, issued in mischief-making. — The opposite
case to hers, is that which touches one with a deeper pity than
almost any spectacle which can be seen on this earth : that of
the child whose strong power of conscientiousness is directed
to wickedness, before it has ability to help itself. Think of
the little child born in a cellar, among thieves ! It is born full
of human powers ; and among these it has a conscience, and
perhaps a particularly strong one. Suppose it is brought up
to believe that its duty is to provide money for its parents by
stealing. Suppose that, by five years old, it entirely believes
that the most wrong thing it can do is to come home at dark
without having stolen at least three pocket-handkerchiefs!
Such cases have been known ; and not a few of them. — And
it is only an exaggerated instance of what we very commonly
see in history and the world. The Chief Inquisitor in Spain
or Italy really believed that he was doing his duty in burning
the bodies of heretics for the good of their souls. Our ances-

10*

114

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

tors thought they were acting benevolently in putting badge
dresses on charity children. The Pharisees of old were sin-
cere in their belief that it was wrong to heal a sick man on the
Sabbath. And I have no doubt that in a future age it will ap-
pear that we ourselves are ignorant and mistaken about some
points of our conduct in which we now sincerely believe that
we are doing what we ought.

In every household, then, the first consideration is to cher-
ish the faculty of conscientiousness ; and the next is, to direct
it wisely.

When I speak of cherishing the faculty, I do not mean that
it is always to be stimulated, whether it be naturally strong or
weak. There are cases, and they are not few, where the
power is stronger than perhaps any other. In such cases, no
stimulating is required, but only guidance and enlightenment.
There are few sadder spectacles than that of a suffering being
whose conscience has become so tender as to be superstitious ;
who lives a life of fear — of incessant fear of doing wrong. It
is a healthy conscience that we want to produce ; a conscience
which shall act naturally, vigorously, and incessantly, like an
instinct ; so as to leave all the other faculties to act freely,
without continual conflict and question whether their action be
right or wrong. A child who is perpetually driven to examine
all he thinks and does will become full of himself, prone to
discontent with himself, and to servile dependence on the opi-
nion of those whom he thinks wiser than himself. What is
such a child to do when he comes out into the world, and must
guide himself? At best, he will go trembling through life,
without courage or self-respect : and something worse is to be
apprehended. It is to be appprehended that if he makes any
slip — and such an one will be sure to think that he does make
slips — he will be unable to bear the pain and uncertainty, and
will grow reckless. A clergyman, of wide and deep experi-
ence, who was the depository of much confidence, told me
once, (and I have never forgotten it,) that some of the worst
cases of desperate vice he had ever known, were those of

CONSCIENTIOUSNESS.

115

young men tenderly and piously reared, who came out from
home anxious about the moral dangers of the world, and the
fears of their parents, and who, having fallen into the slightest
fault, and being utterly wretched in consequence, lost all cou-
rage and hope, and drowned their misery in indulgence of the
worst part of themselves. He felt this so strongly that he sol-
emnly conjured me to use any influence I might ever have
over parents in encouraging them to trust their children with
their innocence, and to have faith in the best faculties of hu-
man nature. This entreaty still rings in my ears, and leads
me to use any influence 1 may now have over parents.

Is it not true that the strongest delight the human being ever
has is in well-doing? Is it not true that this pleasure, like the
pleasures of the eye and ear, the pleasures of benevolence, the
pleasures of the understanding and the imagination, will seek
its own continuance and gratification, if it have fair play ? Is
it not true that pain of conscience is the worst of human suffer-
ings? and that this pain will be naturally avoided, like every
other pain, if only the faculty have fair play ?

The worst of it is, the faculty seldom has fair play. The
fatal notion that human beings are more prone to evil than
inclined to good, and the fatal practice of creating factitious
sins, are dreadfully in the way of natural health of conscience.
Teach a child that his nature is evil, and you will make it evil.
Teach him to fear and despise himself, and you will make him
timid and suspicious. Impose upon him a number of factitious
considerations of duty, and you will perplex his moral sense,
and make him tired of a self-government which has no cer-
tainty and no satisfaction in it. It is a far safer and higher
way to trust to his natural moral sense, and cultivate his moral
taste : to let him grow morally strong by leaving him morally
free, and to make him, by sympathy and example, in love with
whatever things are pure, honest, and lovely. What the parent
has to do with is the moral habits of the child, and not to med-
dle with his faculties. Give them fair scope to grow, and they
will flourish: and, let it be remembered, man has no faculties

116

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

which are, in themselves and altogether, evil. His faculties
are all good, if they are well harmonized. Instead of talking
to him, or leading him to talk in his infancy of his own feelings
as something that he has to take charge of, fix his mind on the
things from which his feelings will of themselves arise. By all
means, lead him to be considerate : but not about his own state,
but rather about the objects which cause that state. If he sees
at home integrity entering into every act and thought, and trust
and love naturally ensuing, he will enjoy integrity and live in
it, as the native of a southern climate enjoys sunshine and lives
in it. If, as must happen, failure of integrity comes under his
notice in one direction or another, he will see the genuine disgust
and pain which those about him feel at the spectacle, and dis-
honesty will be disgusting and painful to him. And so on,
through all good and bad qualities of men. And this will
keep him upright and pure far more certainly than any warn-
ings from you that he will be dishonest and impure, unless he
is constantly watching his feelings, and striving against the
danger.

In the beginning of his course, he inust be aided, — in the
early days when the action of all his faculties is weak and un-
certain : and this aid cannot be given too early ; for we are not
aware of any age at which a child has not some sense of moral
right and wrong. Mrs. Wesley taught her infants in arms to
« cry softly." Without admiring the discipline, we mny profit
by the hint as to the moral capability of the child. When no
older than this, he may have satisfaction, without knowing why,
from submitting quietly to be washed, and to go to bed. When
he becomes capable of employing himself purposely, he may
have satisfaction in doing his business before he goes to his
play, and a sense of uneasiness in omitting the duty. I knew
a little boy in petticoats who had no particular taste for the
alphabet, but began to learn it as a matter of course, without
any pretence of relish. One day his lesson was, for some
reason, rather short. His conscience was not satisfied. When
his elder brother was dismissed, Willie brought his letters again,

CONSCIENTIOUSNESS.

117

but found he was not wanted, and might play. The little fellow
sighed ; and then a bright thought struck him. (I think I see
him now, in his white frock, with his large thoughtful eyes
lighting up!) He said jo) fully — "Willie say his lesson to
hisself." He carried his little stool into a corner, put his book
on his knees, and finished by honestly covering up the large
letters with both hands, and saying aloud two or three new
ones. Then he went to his play, all the merrier for the dis-
charge of his conscience.

There is no reason why it should not be thus with all the
duties of a child. The great point is that he should see that
the peace and joy of the household depend on ease of con-
science. His father takes no pleasure till his work is done,
and tells the truth to his hurt. His mother seeks to be just
to a slandered neighbour, or leaves her rest by the fireside to
aid a sick one. Granny's eyes sparkle, or a flush comes over
her withered cheek, when she tells the children what good men
have endured rather than pretend what they did not believe, or
betray a trust. The maid has taken twopence too much in
change, and is uneasy till she has returned it, or she refuses to
promise something, lest she should be unable to keep her word.
His elder sister refuses something good at a neighbour's, be-
cause her mother would think it unwholesome w7hile she is not
quite well. His elder brother asks him to throw just a little
cold water upon him in the mornings, because he is so terribly
sleepy that he cannot get up without. And he sees what a
welcome is given to a very poor acquaintance, and he feels his
owTn heart beat with reverence for this very poor neighbour,
because his father happens to know that the man refused five
pounds for his vote at the last election. If the child is surrounded
by a moral atmosphere like this, he will derive a strong moral
life from it, and a satisfaction to his highest moral faculties
which it is scarcely possible that he should forego for the plea-
sures of sin. The indolent child will, in such a home, lose all
idea of pleasure in being idle, and soon find no pleasure till his
work is done. The slovenly child will become uneasy under

118

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

a dirty skin, and the thoughtless one in being behind his time.
Common integrity we may suppose to be a matter of course in
a household like this; and, as every virtuous faculty naturally
advances " from strength to strength," we may hope that the
abode will be blessed, as the children grow up, with a very
uncommon integrity.

Though the parent will avoid making the child unnecessarily
conscious of its own conscience, she (for this is chiefly the
mother's business) will remember that her child has his diffi-
culties and perplexities about the working of this, as of all his
other imperfectly trained powers ; and she will lay herself open
to his confidence. Sometimes he is not clear what he ought
to do : sometimes he feels himself too weak to do it : sometimes
he is miserable because he has done wrong : and then again,
he and some one else may differ as to whether he has done
wrong or right. And again, he may have seen something in
other people's conduct which shocks, or puzzles, or delights
him. Oh ! let the mother throw open her heart to confidences
like these ! Let her be sure that the moments of such confi-
dence are golden moments, for which a mother may be more
thankful than for any thing else she can ever receive from her
child. Let it be her care that every child has opportunity to
speak freely and privately to her of such things. Some mothers
make it a practice to go themselves to fetch the candle when
the children are in bed ; and then, if wanted, they stay a few
minutes, and hear any confessions, or difficulties, and receive
any disclosures, of which the little mind may wish to disburden
itself before the hour of sleep. Whether then or at another
time, it is well worth pondering what a few minutes of serious
consultation may do in enlightening and rousing or calming
the conscience, — in rectifying and cherishing the moral life.
It may be owing to such moments as these that humiliation is
raised into humility, apathy into moral enterprise, pride into
awe, and scornful blame into Christian pity. Happy is the
mother who can use such moments as she ought!

There remains, after all, the dread and wonder what such

CONSCIENTIOUSNESS.

119

children are to think and do when they must come to know
what is the average conscientiousness of the world. This is a
subject of fear and pain to most good parents. But they must
consider that their children will not see the world as they do
all at once : — not till they have learned, like their parents, to
allow for, and account for, what happens in the world. The
innocent and the upright put a good construction on as much
as possible of what they see ; and are often more right in this
than their clear-sighted elders who know more of the tendencies
of things. The shock will not come all at once. They hear
now of broken contracts, dishonest bargains, venal elections,
mercenary marriages, and, perhaps, profligate seductions.
They know that there are drunkards, and cheats, and hypo-
crites, and cruel brutes, in society : and these things hardly
affect them, are hardly received by them, because they are
surrounded by honest people, and cannot feel what is beyond.
And when they must become more truly aware of these things,
they will still trust in and admire some whom they look up to,
with more or less reason. The knowledge of iniquity will
come to -them gradually, and all the more safely the less
sympathy they have with it.

If it be the pain, and not the danger, of this knowledge that
the parents dread, they must make up their minds to it for their
children. Surely they do not expect them to go through life
without pain : and a bitter suffering it will be to them to see
what wretchedness is in the world through the vices and igno-
rance of men ; through their want of conscientiousness, or their
errors of conscience. Such pain must be met and endured ;
and who is likely to meet it so bravely, and endure it so hope-
fully, as those who are fully aware that every man's heaven or
hell is within him — giving a hope that heaven will expand as
wisdom grows — and who carry wTithin themselves that peace
which the world " can neither give nor take away?"

120

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION-

CHAPTER XVIII.

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING. — ITS REQUISITES.

We are all accustomed to speak of the Intellect and moral
powers of man as if they were so distinct from one another that
we can deal with each set of powers without touching the
other.

It is true that there is a division between the intellectual and
moral powers of man, as there is between one moral power and
another. It is true that we can think of them separately, and
treat them separately : but it does not follow that they will work
separately. No part of the brain will act alone, no part begins
its own action. It is always put in action by another part pre-
viously at work, and it excites in its turn some other portion.
While we sleep, that part of the brain is at work on which de-
pend those animal functions which are always going on : and,
as we know by our dreams, other portions work with this,
giving us ideas and feelings during sleep — perhaps as many as
by day, if we could only recollect them. The animal portions
of the brain set the intellectual and moral organs to work, and
these act upon each other, so that there is no separating their
action, — no possibility of employing one faculty at a time with-
out help from any other. As memory cannot act till attention
has been awakened, — in other words, as people Cannot remem-
ber what they have never observed and received, so the timid
cannot understand, unless it is in a docile and calm state ; nor
meditate well without the exercise of candour and truthfulness;
nor imagine nobly without the help of veneration and hope. If
we take any great intellectual work and examine it, we shall
see what a variety of faculties, moral as well as intellectual,
have gone to the making of it. Take "Paradise Lost," a
work so glorious for the loftiness of its imagination, and the
extent of its learning, and the beauty of its illustrations, and
the harmony of its versification ! These are its intellectual

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING. — ITS REQUISITES. 121

beauties : but look what moral beauties are inseparable from
these. Look at the veneration, — not only towards God, but
towards all holiness, and power, and beauty! Look at the
purity, the love, the hopefulness, the strain of high honour
throughout ! And this intellectual and moral beauty are so
blended, that we see how impossible it would be for the one to
exist without the other. It is just so in the human character —
the intellect of a human being cannot be of a high order
(though some particular faculties may be very strong) if the
moral nature is low and feeble ; and the moral state cannot be
a lofty one where the intellect is torpid.

It does not follow from this that to be very good a child must
be exceedingly clever and " highly educated," as we call it.
There are plenty of highly-educated people who are not mo-
rally good : and there are many honest and amiable and indus-
trious people who cannot read and write. The thing is, we
misuse the word " Education." Book-learning is compatible
with great poverty of intellect ; and there may be a very fine
understanding, great power of attention and observation, and
possibly, though rarely, of reflection, in a person who has
never learned to read, — if the moral goodness of that person
has put his mind into a calm and teachable and happy state,
and his powers of thought have been stimulated by active affec-
tions ; if, as we say, his heart has quickened his head. These
are truths very important to know; and they ought to be con-
solatory to parents who are grieved and alarmed because they
cannot send their children to school, — supposing that their in-
tellectual part must suffer and go to waste for want of school
training and instruction from books. I will say simply and
openly what I think about this.

I think that no children, in any rank of life, can acquire so
much book-knowledge at home as at a good school, or have
their intellectual faculties so well roused and trained. I have
never seen an instance of such high attainment in languages,
mathematics, history, or philosophy in young people taught at
home, — even by the best masters, — as in those who have been

122

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

in a good school. Without going into the reasons of this,
which would lead us out of our way here, I would fully admit
the fact.

There are two ways of taking it. First, it cannot be helped.
A much larger number of people are unable to send their chil-
dren to school than can do so. The queen cannot send her
children to school ; and the children of the peerage are under
great disadvantage. The girls cannot, or do not, go from
home ; and the boys go only to one or another of a very small
choice of public schools, where they must run tremendous
risks to both morals and intellect. Then there are multitudes
of families, in town and country, among rich and poor, where
the children must be taught at home. The number is much
larger of the children who do not go to school than of those
who do. If we consider, again, how large a proportion of
schools, taking them from the highest to the lowest, are so bad
that children learn little in them, it is clear that the home-
trained intellects are out of all proportion more numerous than
the school-trained.

The other way of looking at the matter is in order to in-
quire what school advantages may be brought home — what
there is in the school that children may have the benefit of at
home.

The fundamental difference between school and home is
clear enough. At school, everything is done by rule; by a
law which was made without a view to any particular child,
and which governs all alike : whereas, at home, the govern-
ment is not one of law, working on from year to year without
change, but of love, or, at least, of the mind of the parents,
varying with circumstances, and with the ages and dispositions
of the children. There is no occasion to point out here how
great are the moral advantages of a good home in comparison
with the best of schools. Our business now is with the intel-
lectual training. Can the advantages of school law be brought
into the home ?

I think they may, to a certain extent : and I think it of great

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING. ITS REQUISITES. 123

importance that they should. Law will not do all at home
that it does at school. It is known to be new made, for the
sake of the parties under it ; and it cannot possibly work so
undeviatingly in a family as in a school ; and the children of a
family, no two of whom are of the same a^e, cannot have their
faculties so stimulated to achieve irksome labour as in a large
class of comrades of the same age and standing. But still,
rule and regularity will do much : and when we consider the
amount of drudgery that children have to get through in ac-
quiring the elements of knowledge, we shall feel it to be only
humane and fair to give them any aid that can be afforded
through the plans of the household.

Those kinds and parts of knowledge which interest the
reasoning faculties and the imagination are not in question just
now. They come by and by, and can better take care of
themselves, or are more sure to be taken care of by others,
than the drudgery which is the first stage in all learning. The
drudgery comes first ; and it is wise and kind to let it come
soon enough. The quickness of eye, and tenacity and readi-
ness of memory, which belong to infancy, should be made use
of while at their brightest, for gaining such knowledge as is to
be had by the mere eye, ear, and memory. How easily can
the most ordinary child learn a hymn or other piece of poetry
by heart ; — sometimes before it can speak plain, and very often
indeed before it can understand the meaning ! What a pity
that this readiness should not be used, — that the child, for
instance, should not learn to count, and to read, and to say
the multiplication table, while it can learn these things with
the least trouble ! We must remember that while we see the
child to be about a great and heavy work, the child himself
does not know this, and cannot be oppressed by the thought.
All he knows about is the little bit he learns every day. And
that little bit is easy to him, if the support of law be given
him. It is here that law7 must come in to help him. He
should, if possible, be saved all uncertainty, all conflict in his
little mind, as to his daily business. If there is a want of cer-

124

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

tainty and punctuality about his lessons, there will be room for
the thought of something which, for the moment, he would like
better; and again, his young faculties will become confused
and irregular in their working from uncertainty of seasons and
of plans. If there can be a particular place, and a particular
time for him, every day but Sundays, and he is never put off,
his faculties will come to their work with a freshness and stea-
diness which nothing but habit will secure. A law of work
which leaves him no choice, but sets his faculties free for his
business, saves him half the labour of it ; as it does in after
life to those who are so blessed as to be destined to necessary,
and not voluntary labour. In houses where there cannot be a
room set apart for the lessons, perhaps there may be a corner.
If there cannot be a place, perhaps there may be a time : and
the time should be that which can best be secured from inter-
ruption. Where the father is so fond of his children, and so
capable of self-denial for their sakes as to devote an hour or
tw7o of his evenings to the instruction of his children, he may
rely upon it that he is heaping up blessings for himself with
every minute of those hours. His presence, the presence of
the worker of the household, is equal to school and home in-
fluence together. The sanctiness of his leisure makes the law;
and his devotedness in using it thus makes the inestimable
home influence. Under his teaching, if it be regular and in-
telligent, head and heart will come on together, to his encour-
agement nowT, and his great future satisfaction.

When. I come to speak of habits, by and by, it will be seen
that this introduction of law at home is to relate only to affairs
of habit, and intellectual attainment. The misfortune of school
is that the affections and feelings must come under the control
of law, instead of the guidance of domestic love. It would be
a wanton mischief indeed to spoil the freedom of home by
stretching rule and law there beyond their proper province.

There are houses, many houses, and not always very poor
ones, where the parents think they cannot provide for the in-
tellectual improvement of their children, and mourn daily over

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING. — ITS REQUISITES.

125

the thought. I wish such parents could be induced to consider
well what intellectual improvement is, and then they would see
how much they may do for their children's minds without book,
pen, or paper. It goes against me to suppose children brought
up without knowledge of reading and writing; and I trust this
is not likely to be the fate of any children of the parents who
read this. But it is as well to suppose the extreme case, in
order to see whether even people wTho cannot read and write
must remain ignorant and debarred from the privileges of mind.

In America I saw many families of settlers, where the children
were strangely circumstanced. There was always plenty to
eat and drink; the barns were full of produce, and there were
horses in the meadow ; and every child would have hereafter
a goodly portion of land : but there were no servants, and
there could be no " education," because the mother and chil-
dren had to do all the work of the house. In one of these
homes the day was spent thus. — The father (a man of great
property) went out upon his land, before daylight, taking with
him his little sons of six and seven years old, who earned their
breakfasts by leading the horses down to water, and turning
out the cows, and sweeping the stable ; and, when the milking
was done (by a man on the farm, I think,) they brought up the
milk. Meantime, their mother, an educated English lady, took
up the younger children, and swept the kitchen, lighted the fire,
and cooked the beef-steak for her husband's breakfast, and
boiled the eggs which the little ones brought in from the pad-
dock. Soon after seven, the farmer and boys were gone again :
and then the mother set down in the middle of the kitchen
floor a large bowl of hot water and the breakfast things : and
the little girl of four, and her sister of two, set to work. The
elder washed the cups and dishes, and the younger wiped them,
as carefully and delicately as if she had been ten years older.
She never broke anything, or failed to make all bright and dry.
Then they went to make their own little beds ; they could just
manage that, but not the larger ones. Meantime, their mother
was baking, or washing, or brewing, or making soap, — boiling

11*

126

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

it in a cauldron over a fire in the wood. There were no
grocers' shops within scores of miles. In the season, the
family had to make sugar in the forest from their maple trees ;
and wine from the fruit they grew : and there were the apples,
in immense quantities, to be split and cored, and hung up in
strings for winter use. Every morning in the week was occu-
pied with one or another of these employments ; and in the
midst of them, dinner had to be cooked, and ready by noon ;
another beef-steak, with apple-sauce or onions, and hot " corn"
bread (made of Indian meal,) and a squash pie, or something
of the sort. There was enough to do, all the afternoon, in
finishing off' the morning's work ; and there must be another
steak for tea or supper. — The children had been helping all day ;
and now their parents wished to devote this time, — after six
p. m. — to their benefit. It is true, the mother had now7 to sew ;
this being her only time for making and mending ; but she got
out the slates and lesson-books, and put one little girl and boy
before her, while their father took the other two, and set them
a sum and a copy on the slate. But alas ! by this time, no
one of the party could keep awake. They did try. The
parents were so extremely anxious for their children that they
did strive ; but nature was overpowered. After a few strug-
gles, the children were sent to bed ; and in the very midst of a
sentence, the mother's head would sink over her work, and the
father's down upon the table, in irresistible sleep. Both had
been very fond of chess, in former days : and the husband bade
his wife put away her work, and try a game of chess. But down
went the board, and off slid the men, in the middle of a game !
Now, — what could be done for the children's education here?
In time, there was hope that roads and markets would be
opened where the produce of the farm might be sold, and
money obtained to send the children to schools, some hundreds
of miles off: or, at least, that neighbours enough might settle
round about to enable the township to invite a schoolmaster.
But what could be done meantime?

So much might be, and was, done as would astonish people

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING. — ITS REQUISITES.

127

who think that intellectual education means school learning. I
do not at all wish to extenuate the misfortune of these children
in being doomed to write a bad hand, if any ; to be slow at
accounts ; to have probably no taste for reading ; and no know-
ledge, except by hearsay, of the treasures of literature. But I
do say that they were not likely to grow up ignorant and stupid.
They knew every tree in the forest, and every bird, and every
weed. They knew the habits of all domestic animals. They
could tell at a glance how many scores of pigeons there were
in a flock, when clouds of these birds came sailing towards the
wood. They did not want to measure distances, for they knew
them by the eye. They could give their minds earnestly to
what they were about ; and ponder, and plan, and imagine,
and contrive. Their faculties were all awake. And they ob-
tained snatches of stories from father and mother, about the
heroes of old times, and the history of England and America.
They worshipped God, and loved Christ, and were familiar
with the Bible. Now, there are some things here that very
highly educated people among us might be glad to be equal to :
and the very busiest father, the hardest-driven mother in Eng-
land may be able, in the course of daily business, to rouse and
employ the faculties of their children, — their attention, under-
standing, reflection, memory and imagination, — so as to make
their intellects worth more than those of many children who
are successful at school. Their chance is doubled if books are
opened to them : but if not, there is nothing to despair about.

I was much struck by a day's intellectual education of a
little boy of seven who was thrown out of his usual course of
study and play. The family were in the country, — in a house
which they had to themselves for a month, in beautiful scenery,
where they expected to be so continually out of doors that the
children's toys were left at home. Some days of unintermit-
ting, drenching rain came ; and on one of these days, the little
fellow looked round him, after breakfast, and said, "Papa, I
don't exactly see what I can do." He would have been thank-
ful to say his lessons : but papa was absolutely obliged to write

128

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

the whole day ; and mama was up-stairs nursing his little sister,
who had met with an accident. His papa knew well how to
make him happy. He set him to find out the area of the house,
and of every room in it. He lent him a three-foot rule, showed
him how he might find the thickness of the walls, and gave him
a slale and pencil. This was enough. All day, he troubled
nobody, but went quietly about, measuring and calculating,
and writing down ; — from morning till dinner, — from dinner
till supper : and by that time he had done. When they could
go out to measure the outside, they found him right to an inch :
and the same with every room in the house. — This boy was no
genius. He was an earnest, well-trained boy ; and who does
not see that if he and his parents had lived in an American
forest, or in the severest poverty at home, he would have been,
in the best sense, an educated boy! He would not have un-
derstood several languages, as he does now: but his faculties
would have been busy and cultivated, if he had never in his
life seen any book but the Bible. Anxious parents may take
comfort from the thought that nothing ever exists or occurs
which may not be made matter of instruction to the mind of
man. The mind and the material being furnished to the parents'
hands, it is their business to bring them together, whether books
be among the material or not.

CHAPTER XIX.

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING. ORDER OF DEVELOPMENT. THE PER-
CEPTIVE FACULTIES.

In beginning a child's intellectual education, the parent must
constantly remember to carry on his care of the frame, spoken
of in a former chapter. The most irritable and tender part of
a child's frame is its brain ; and on the welfare of its brain

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.

129

every thing else depends. It should not be forgotten that the
little creature was born with a soft head ; and that it takes years
for the contents of that skull to become completely guarded by
the external bones, and sufficiently grown and strengthened to
bear much stress. Nature points out what the infant's brain
requires, and what it can bear; and if the parents are able to
discern and follow the leadings of nature, all will be well.
The most certain thing is that there is no safety in any other
course.

In their anxiety to bring up any lagging faculty, — to cherish
any weak power, — parents are apt to suppose those faculties
weak, for whose development they are looking too soon. It
grieves me io see conscientious parents, who govern their own
lives by reasoning, stimulating a young child to reason long
before the proper time. The reflective and reasoning faculties
are among the last that should naturally come into use ; and
the only safe way is to watch for their first activity, and then
let it have scope. One of the finest children I ever saw, — a
stout handsome boy, with a full set of vigorous faculties, — was,
at five years old, in danger of being spoiled in a strange sort of
way. The process was stopped in time to save his intellect
and his morals; but not before it had strewn his youthful life
with difficulties from which he need never have suffered. This
boy heard a great deal of reasoning always going on; and he
seldom or never saw any children, except in parties, or in the
street. His natural imitation of the talk of grown up people
was encouraged ; and from the time he could speak, he saw in
the wThole world, — in all the objects that met his senses, — only
things to reason about. He gathered flowers, not so much be-
cause he liked them as because they might be discoursed about.
He could not shut the door, or put on his pinafore when bid,
till the matter was argued, and the desired act proved to be
reasonable. The check was, as I have said, given in time :
but he had much to do to bring up his perceptive faculties and
his mechanical habits to the point required in even a decent
education. He had infinite trouble in learning to spell, and in

130

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

mastering all the elements of knowledge which are acquired by
the memory : and his writing a good hand, and being ready at
figures, or apt at learning a modern language by the ear, was
hopeless. He would doubtless have done all these well, if his
faculties had been exercised in their proper order ; — that is, in
the order which nature indicates, — and vindicates.
And now, — what is that order?

The Perceptive faculties come first into activity. Do we
not all remember that colours gave us more intense pleasure
in our early childhood than they have ever done since ? Most
of us can remember back to the time when we were four years
old, — or three ; and some even two. What is it that we re-
member ? With one, it is a piece of gay silk, or printed cotton
or china ; or a bed of crocuses ; — or we remember the feel of a
piece of velvet or fur, or something rough; — or the particular
shape of some leaf ; — or the amazing weight of a globule of
quicksilver ; — or the immense distance from one end of the
room to the other. I, for one, remember several things that
happened when I was between two and three years old : and
most of these were sensations, exciting passions. I doubt
whether I ever felt keener delight than in passing my fingers
round a flat button, covered with black velvet, on the top of a
sister's bonnet. I remember lighting upon the sensation, if
one may say so ; and the intense desire afterwards to be feeling
the button. And just at that time I was sent into the country
for my health ; and I can now tell things about the first day in
the cottage which no one can ever have told to me. I tried to
walk round a tree (an elm, I believe,) clasping the tree with
both arms : and nothing that has happened to-day is more vivid
to me than the feel of the rough bark to the palms of my hands,
and the entanglement of the grass to my feet. And then at
night there was the fearful wonder at the feel of the coarse
calico sheets, and at the creaking of the turn-up bedstead when
I moved. After I came home, when I was two years and nine
months old, I saw, one day, the door of the spare bed-room
ajar, and I pushed it open and went in. I was walking about

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.

131

the house because I had a pair of new shoes on, and I liked
to hear their pit-pat, and to make sure that I could walk in
them, though they were slippery. The floor of the spare-room
was smooth and somewhat polished ; and it was — (at least to
mv eyes — ) a large room. I was half frightened when I saw
that the blinds were down. But there was a fire ; and standing
by the fire, at the further end, was an old woman — (or to me
she looked old) — with a muslin handkerchief crossed over her
gown, and in her arms she held a bundle of flannel. The
cunains of the bed were drawn ; — the fawn-coloured moreen
curtains with a black velvet edg^e, which I sometimes stroked
for a treat. The old woman beckoned to me, and I wished to
go ; but I thought I could never walk all that way on the
polished floor without a tumble. I remember how wide I
stretched out my arms, and how far apart I set my feet, and
how I got to the old woman at last. With her foot she pushed
forwards a tiny chair, used as a footstool, embroided over with
sprawling green leaves ; and there I sat down : and the old
woman laid the bundle of flannel across my lap. With one
hand she held it there safe, and with the other she uncovered
the little red face of a baby. Though the sight set every pulse
in my body beating, I do not remember feeling any fear, —
though I was always afraid of everything. It was a passionate
feeling of wonder, and a sort of tender delight ; — delight at
being noticed and having it on my lap, perhaps, as much as
at the thing itself. How it ended, I do not know. I only
remember further seeing with amazement, that somebody was
in the bed, — that there was a night-cap on the pillow, though
it was day-time. These details may seem trifling: but, if we
want to know what faculties are vigorous in infancy, it is as
well to learn, in any way we can, what children feel and think
at the earliest age we can arrive at. One other instance of
vivid perception stands out among many in my childhood so
remarkably as to be perhaps instructive : and the more so
because I was not endowed with quick senses, or strong per-
ceptive powers, but, on the contrary, discouraged my teachers

132

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

by dullness and inattention, and a constant tendency to reverie.
I was always considered a remarkably unobservant child.

I slept with the nursemaid in a room at the top of the house
which looked eastwards ; and the baby brother mentioned
above, now just able to walk, slept in a crib by the bedside.
One summer morning- I happened to wake before sunrise, and
thought it very strange to see the maid asleep ; the next thing
I remember was walking over the boards with bare feet, and
seeing some little pink toes peeping out through the rails of
the crib. I gently pinched them, and somehow managed to
keep the child quiet when he reared himself up from his pillow ;
he must have caught some of the spirit of the prank, for he
made no noise. I helped him to scramble down from the crib,
and led him to the window, and helped him to scramble upon
a chair: and then I got up beside him: and, by using all my
strength, I opened the window. How chill the air was! and
how hard and sharp the window-sill felt to my arms ! We
were so high above the street that I dared not look down ; but
oh! what a sight we saw by looking abroad over the tops of
the houses to the rising ground beyond ! The sun must have
been coming up, for the night-clouds were of the richest purple,
turning to crimson ; and in one part there seemed to be a solid
edge of gold. I have seen the morning and evening skies of
all the four quarters of the world, but this is, in my memory,
the most gorgeous of all, though it could not in fact have been
so. I whispered all I knew about God making the sun come
up every morning ; and I certainly supposed the child to sympa-
thize with me in the thrilling awe of the moment: but it could
not have been so. I have some remembrance of the horrible
difficulty of getting the window down again, and of hoisting
up my companion into his crib ; and I can distinctly recal the
feelings of mingled contempt and fear with which I looked
upon the maid, who had slept through all this; and how cold
my feet were when I crept into bed again.

Now, if this is what children are, it seems plain that the facul-
ties by which they perceive objects so vividly should be simply

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.

133

trained to a good use. The parent has little more to do than
to see that Nature is not hindered in her working: to see that
the faculties are awake, and that a sufficient variety is offered
for them to employ themselves upon. Nothing like what is
commonly called teaching is required here, or can do anything
but harm at present. If the mother is at work, and the children
are running in and out of the garden, it is only saying to the
little toddler, " Now bring me a blue flower ; now bring me a
yellow flower ; — now bring me a green leaf." At another time,
she will ask for a round stone ; or a thick stick ; or a thin stick.
And sometimes she will blow a feather, and let it fall again : or
she will blow a dandelion-head all to pieces, and quite away.
If she is wise, she will let the child alone, to try its own little
experiments, and learn for itself what is hard and what is soft ;
what is heavy and light ; hot and cold ; and what it can do
with its little limbs and quick senses. Taking care, of course,
that it does not injure itself, and that it has objects within reach
in sufficient variety, she cannot do better, at this season of its
life, than let it be busy in its own way. I saw a little fellow,
one day, intently occupied for a whole breakfast-time, and
some time afterwards, in trying to put the key of the house-door
into the key-hole of the tea-caddy. When he gave the matter
up, and not before, his mother helped him to see why he could
not do it. If she had taken the door-key from him at first, he
would have missed a valuable lesson. At this period of exist-
ence, the children of rich and poor have, or may have, about
equal advantages, under the care of sensible parents. They
can be busy about anything. There is nothing that cannot be
made a plaything of, and a certain means of knowledge, if the
faculties be awake. If the child be dull, it must, of course, be
tempted to play. If the faculties be in their natural state of
liveliness, the mother has only to be aware that the little crea-
ture must be busy while it is awake, and to see that it has
variety enough of things (the simpler the better) to handle, and
look at, and listen to, and experiment upon.

The perceptive faculties have a relation to other objects than

134

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

those which are presented to the five senses. It is very well
for children to be picking up from day to day knowledge about
colours and forms, and the hardness and weight of substances,
and the habits of animals, and the growth of plants ; — the great
story, in short, of what passes before their eyes, and appeals to
their ears, and impresses them through the touch : but there is
another range of knowledge appropriate to the perceptive facul-
ties. There are many facts that can be perceived through
another medium than the eye, the £ar, or the hand. Facts of
number and quantity, for instance, are perceived (after a time,
if not at first) without illustration by objects of sight or sound ;
and it is right, and kind to the child, to help him to a percep-
tion of these facts early, while the perceiving faculties are in
their first vigour. There is no hardship in this, if the thing is
done in moderation ; and in many cases, this exertion of the
perceptive faculties is attended with a keen satisfaction. I have
known an idiot child, perfectly infantine in his general ways,
amuse himself half the daylong with employing his perceptions
of number and quantity. He, poor child, was incapable of
being taught anything as a lesson : he did not understand
speech, — beyond a very fewT words : but the exercise of such
faculties as he had — (and the strongest he had were those of
Order, and Perception of number, quantity and symmetry) was
the happiness of his short and imperfect life : and the exercise
of the same faculties, — moderate and natural exercise, — may
make part of the happiness of every child's life.

It is very well to use the faculty of eye and ear as an intro-
duction to the use of the inner perceptions, — so to speak. For
instance, it is well to teach a child the multiplication-table, by
the ear as well as the understanding: — to teach it by rote, (as
one teaches a tune without words), as an avenue to the mystery
of numbers : but the pleasure to the pupil is in perceiving the
relations of numbers. In the same manner, the eye may be
used for the same purpose ; as when the mother teaches by
pins on the table, or by peas, or peppercorns, that two and
two make four; and that three fours, or two sixes, or four

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.

135

threes, all make twelve : but the pleasure to the pupil is in
perceiving the relations of these numbers without pins or pep-
percorns,— in the head: and in going on till he has mastered
all the numbers in the multiplication-table, — perceiving them
in the depths of his mind, without light or sound, — without
images or words. Children who are capable of mental arith-
metic delight in it, before their minds are tired : — and the mo-
ment the mind is tired, the exercise should stop.

About quantity, the same methods may be used. At first,
there must be measurement, to prove to the child the relation
of quantities ; but to what a point of precision the mind may
arrive, after having once perceived the truth of quantities and
spaces, is seen in the .fact that astronomers can infallibly pre-
dict eclipses centuries before they happen. Another depart-
ment of what is called exact knowledge comprehends the rela-
tions of time. This is another case in which idiots have proved
to us that there is an inner perception of time, — a faculty which
works pleasurably when once set to work. One idiot who had
lived near a striking clock, and was afterwards removed from
all clocks, and did not know a watch by sight, went on to the
end of his life imitating the striking of the hour regularly, with
as much precision as the sun marks it upon the dial. Another
who never had sense to know of the existence of clock or
watch, could never be deceived about the precise time of day.
Under all changes of place and households with their habits,
he did and looked for the same things at exactly the same mo-
ment of every day. And by this faculty it is that even little
children learn the clock; — a process which, from its very na-
ture, could never be learned by rote. In these matters, again,
the children of the poor can be as well trained as those of the
rich. Every where, and under all circumstances, people can
measure and compute. The boy must do it if he is to practise
any art or trade whatever; and in every household there is, or
ought to be, enough of economy, — of measuring, and cutting
out, and counting and calculating, for the girl to exercise her
faculty of perception of number and quantity. The under-

136 HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

standing of money is no mean exercise, in itself. In one rank,
we see the able builder, carpenter, and mechanician, practised
in these departments of perception : and in another we see the
astronomer detecting and marking out the courses of the stars,
and understanding the mighty mechanism of the heavens, as
if he had himself trodden all the pathways of the sky. It is wise
and kind to use the early vigour of these faculties — the powers
which perceive facts, — up to the limit of satisfaction, stopping
short always of fatigue.

This is the season, too, and these are the faculties to be em-
ployed in learning by rote. Learning by rote is nothing of a
drudgery now compared with what it is afterwards ; — for the
ear is quick, the eye is free and at liberty; the memory is re-
tentive, and the understanding is not yet pressing for its grati-
fication. At this season, too, as has been before observed, the
child does not look forward, nor comprehend what it is attempt-
ing. The present hour, with its little portion of occupation,
is all that it sees : and it accomplishes vast things, bit by bit,
which it would never attempt if it knew the sum of the matter.
No one would learn to speak if he knew all that speech com-
prehends : yet every child learns to speak, easily and naturally.
Thus it is with every art, every science, every department of
action and knowledge. The beginning, — the drudgery — should
be got over at the time when it costs least fatigue. And this
is why we teach children early to read ; — so early that, but for
this consideration, it is of no consequence whether they can
read or not. We do it while the eye is quick to notice the
form of the letters, and while the ear is apt to catch their sound,
and before the higher faculties come in with any disturbing
considerations. My own opinion is that, on account of the
feebleness and uncertainty of the hand, writing had better be
taught later than it usually is ; — that is, when the child shows
an inclination to draw or scribble, — to describe any forms on
slate or paper, or on walls or sand. But whatever depends
mainly on eye, ear, and memory, should be taught early, when
the learning causes the most gratification and the least pain.

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.

137

The help that this arrangement gives to, and receives from, the
formation of habits of regularity and industry will come under
notice when I speak hereafter of the Care of the Habits.

According to what has been said, a child's first intellectual
education lies in varied amusement, without express teaching.
This is while its brain is infantine and tender, and its nature
restless and altogether sensitive. When it shows itself quieter
and more thoughtful, it may be expressly taught, a little at a
time, with cheerful steadiness and tender encouragement. What
it should learn, a healthy well-trained child will, for the most
part, indicate for itself, by its inquiries, and its pleasure in learn-
ing. What the parent has to impose upon it is that which,
being artificial, it cannot indicate for itself, — the art of reading,
and the names and forms of numbers, and such arrangements
of language as are found in simple poetry, or other useful forms
which may be committed to memory. It is impossible to lay
down any rule as to the age to be comprehended in this pe-
riod ; and it might be dangerous to do so ; — so various are the
capacities and temperaments of children ; but, speaking quite
indeterminately, I may say that I have had in view the period,
for ordinary children, from the opening of the faculties to about
seven years old.

CHAPTER XX.

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING THE CONCEPTIVE FACULTIES.

Up to this point, and for some way beyond it, children are
better off at home than at school ; and no parent should be
induced to think otherwise by what is seen to be achieved at
Infant Schools. At some Infant Schools, little children who
can scarcely speak, are found able to say and do many wonder-

12*

138

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

fal things which might make inexperienced mothers fear that
their little ones at home had not been done justice to, and must
be sadly backward in their education : but if the anxious mo-
ther will consider a little, and keep on the watch, she will per-
ceive that her children are better at home. These Infant
Schools were set on foot with the most benevolent of inten-
tions ; and they are really a vast benefit to a large class in
society ; but it does not follow that they afford the best train-
ing for infants. In their very nature they cannot do so. When
we stand in the midst of such an assemblage, we feel what a
blessing it is that little creatures who would be locked up in
garrets all day while the parents were at work, liable to falls or
fire, or who would be tumbling about in the streets or roads,
dirty, quarrelsome, and exposed to bad company, should be
collected here safe under guardianship, and taught, and kept
clean, and amused with harmless play : but we cannot help
seeing, at the same time, that there is something unnatural in
the method ; and whatever is unnatural is always radically bad.
Nature makes households, family groups where no two chil-
dren are of the same age, and where, with the utmost activity,
there is a certain degree of quietness, retirement, and repose ;
whereas, in the Infant School there is a crowd of little creatures,
dozens of whom are of the same age ; and quietness can be
obtained only by drilling, while play occasions an uproar which
no nerves can easily bear. The brain and nerves of infants
are tender and irritable ; and in the quietest home, a sensible
mother takes care that the little creature is protected from hurry,
and loud noises, and fear, and fatigue of its faculties. She sees
when it begins to look pale, or turns cross or sick, and instantly
removes it from excitement. But it is impossible thus to pro-
tect each child in a school: and the consequence is that the
amount of mortality in Infant Schools, as in every large assem-
blage of infants, is very great. There is no saying whether as
many might not perish from accident and some kind of misery,
if they were left in their garrets and street haunts ; but the

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.

139

facts show that home is the proper place for little children
whose parents make a real home for them ; and no apparent
forwardness of school infants can alter the case.

In truth, school is no place of education for any children
whatever till their minds are well put in action. This is the
work which has to be done at home, and which may be done
in all homes where the mother is a sensible woman. This
done, a good school is a resource of inestimable advantage for
cultivating the intellect, and aiding the acquisition of know-
ledge : but it is of little or no use without preparation at home.
So at the age of which we speak, parents may be satisfied that
they have the matter in their own hands.

We have seen that the Perceptive faculties are the first of
the intellectual powers which act : and that there is plenty of
material for their exercise everywhere, and all day long.

The next set of faculties comes pretty early into operation,
and so much of the future wealth of the mind depends on their
cultivation that they ought to have the serious attention of
parents. I refer to the Conceptive faculties. The time has
come when the child is perhaps less intensely impressed by
actual objects, while it becomes capable of conceiving of some-
thing that it does not see. At this period, the little boy drags
about the horse that has lost head and tail and a leg or two :
and the little girl hugs a rag bundle which she calls her doll.
The boy does not want a better horse, nor the girl a real doll.
The idea is every thing to them, by virtue of their conceptive
faculty. Staring, meagre pictures please them now, — better
than the finest ; and stories, with few incidents and no filling
up. The faculty is so vigorous, while, of course, very narrow
in its range, from the scantiness of the child's knowledge, that
the merest sketch is enough to stimulate it to action ; the rudest
toys, the most meagre drawing, the baldest story. The mother's
business is now clear and easy. Her business is to supply more
and more material for these faculties.to work upon ; — to give,
as occasion arises, more and more knowledge of actual things,
and furnish representations or suggestions in the course of her

140

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

intercourse with the child, Nothing is easier ; for in fact she
has only to make herself the child's cheerful companion : and
in a manner which can go on while she is employed in her
household occupations, or walking in the fields or the streets.
The child asks a myriad of questions ; and she must make
some kind of cheerful answer to them all, if she lets him talk
at all. She will often have to tell him that she does not know
this or that ; for a child's questions reach far beyond the
bounds of our knowledge : but she must not leave him with-
out some sort of answer to appease his restless faculties. And
his questions will suggest to her a multitude of things to tell
him which he will be eager to hear, as long as they hang upon
any thing real which he knows already. Stories and pictures
(including toys, wThich to him are pictures) are what he likes
best ; and she will make either stories or pictures, — short and
vivid, — of what she tells him. The stories and pictures of her
conversation must be simple and literal ; and so must any
sketches she may make for him with pencil and paper, or a bit
of chalk upon the pavement. She may make four straight
strokes, with two horizontal lines above, and a circle for a head,
and call it a horse ; and a horse it will be to him, because it
calls up the image of a horse in his mind. But if she draws
it ever so well, and puts wings to it, he will not like it half so
much, even if she tells him that its name is Pegasus, and there
are some pretty stories about such a horse. Perhaps he will be
afraid of it.

'There can scarcely be a stronger instance of the power of
such a child's conceptive faculty than in his own attempts to
draw. He draws the cat, or a soldier, and is in raptures with
it. Mark his surprise when his mother points out to him that
the cat's head is bigger than her body, and that the soldier is
all legs and arms and gun, and has no body at all. He sees
this, and admits it, and draws a better one : but he would not
have found out for himself that there was anything amiss the
first time. The idea was complete in his mind ; and he thought
he saw its representation on the paper, till his mother roused

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.

141

his perceptive powers by making him observe the real cat
and soldier, and their proportions. I remember once being
amused at seeing how very short a time was necessary to bring
the perceptive faculties into their due relation to the conceptive.
A little boy who had taken a journey, was exceedingly de-
lighted with the river-side inn at Ferrybridge in Yorkshire ; and
he must draw it. When he was a hundred miles further north,
he must draw it again: and diligently enough he persevered,
kneeling on a chair, — drawing the river and the bridge, and a
house, and a heap of coals, — each coal being round, and almost
as big as the house. When his paper was nearly all scrawled
over, he went unwillingly away to his dinner, from which he
hastened back to his drawing. But 0 ! what consternation
there was in his face, and what large tears rolled down his
cheeks, till he hid his face with his pinafore. He wailed and
sobbed : — << somebody had spoiled his drawing." When asked
what made him think so, and assured that nobody had touched
it, he sobbed out "I 'm sure I never made it such a muddle."
Before dinner, he saw his work with the conceptive, — after
dinner with the perceptive faculties ; and it is no wonder that
he thought two persons had been at it.

Without going over again any of the ground traversed in the
chapter on Fear, I may just observe that at this period children
are particularly liable to fear. Almost any appearance suffices
to suggest images; and the repetition of any image inariably,
at any time or place, is in itself terrifying to those of older
nerves than the children we are thinking of. Now is the time
when portraits seem to stare at the gazer, and to turn their eyes
wherever he moves. Now is the time when a crack in the
plaster of a wall, or an outline in a chintz pattern or a paper-
hanging, suggests the image of some monster, and perhaps
makes the child afraid of his room or his bed, while his mother
has no perception of the fact. The mother should be on the
watch, without any appearance of being so.

I have spoken of only the early stage of the activity of the
conceptive faculties. We see how it goes on in the appetite

142

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

for fiction which is common to all children, — in the eagerness
of boys for books of voyages and travels, and for playing sol-
diers, and schoolmaster, and making processions, while the
girls are playing school-mistress, and dressing up, and pretend-
ing to be the queen. The whole period is, or ought to be,
very precious to the parents ; for it is the time for storing their
children's minds with images and ideas, which are the materials
for the exercise of the higher faculties at a later time. The
simple method of management is to practise the old maxim
f« Live and let live." The mother's mind must be awake, to
meet the vivacious mind of the child: and she must see that
the child's is lively and natural, and be careful neither to over-
excite it by her anxiety to be always teaching, nor to baulk
and depress it by discouraging too much its sometimes incon-
venient loquacity and curiosity. It is well that there should
be times when children of six and upwards should amuse them-
selves and one another without troubling their elders ; but a
vivacious child must talk and inquire a great deal every day,
or, if repressed, suffer from some undue exercise of its mental
activity.

It should never be forgotten that the happier a child is, the
cleverer he will be. This is not only because, in a state of
happiness, the mind is free, and at liberty for the exercise of
its faculties, instead of spending its thoughts and energy in
brooding over troubles ; but also because the action of the brain
is stronger when the frame is in a state of hilarity : the ideas
are more clear; impressions of outward objects are more vivid ;
and the memory will not let them slip. This is reason enough
for the mother to take some care that she is the cheerful guide
and comforter that her child needs. If she is anxious or fatigued
she will exercise some control over herself, and speak cheer-
fully, and try to enter freely into the subject of the moment; —
to meet the child's mind, in short, instead of making his sink
for want of companionship. A rather low instance of the effect
of the stimulus of joy in quickening the powers occurred within
my knowledge ; — a rather low one, but illustrative enough. A

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.

143

little girl, the youngest of her class at school, did her French
lessons fairly ; but, as a matter of course, was always at or
near the bottom, while a tall girl, five years older, clever and
industrious, was always, as a matter of course, at the top. One
day, there happened to be a long word in question in the vo-
cabulary, which nobody knew but the little girl ; so she went
to the top. There was not much excitement of ambition in
the case: she felt it to be an accident merely, and the tall girl
wras very kind to her ; — there could hardly be less of the spirit
of rivalry in such a case than there was here. But the joy of
the child was great; and her surprise, — both at the fact of her
position, and at the power she found in herself to keep it ; —
and keep it she did for many weeks, though the tall girl never
missed a word in all that time. The dull French vocabulary
suddenly became to the child a book of living imagery. The
very letters of the words impressed themselves like pictures
upon her memory ; and each word, becoming suddenly inter-
esting of itself, called up some imagery, which prevented its
being forgotten. All this was pleasant ; and then there was
the comfort and security about the lesson being perfect. The
child not only hoped every day that she should get well through,
but felt it impossible that she should ever forget a word of it.
When at last she failed, it was through depression of spirits.
"While she was learning her lesson at home, her baby-sister was
ill, and crying sadly. It was impossible to get any impression
out of the book: — the page turned into common French vocabu-
lary again ; and the next morning, not only the tall girl stepped
into her proper place, but the little one rapidly passed down to
her old stand at the bottom.

Children who read from the love of reading, are usually
supremely happy over their book. A wise parent will indulge
the love of reading, not only from kindness in permitting the
child to do what it likes best, but because what is read with
enjoyment has intense effect upon the intellect. The practice
of reading for amusement must not begin too soon ; and it must
be permitted by very slow degress, till the child is so practised

144

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

in the art of reading as to have its whole mind at liberty for
the subject, without having to think about the lines or the
words. Till he is sufficiently practised for this, he should be
read to : and it will then soon appear whether he is likely to
be moderate when he gets a book into his own hands. My
own opinion is, that it is better to leave him to his natural
tastes, — to his instincts, — when that important period of his
life arrives which makes him an independent reader. Of course,
his proper duty must be done ; — his lessons, or work of other
kinds, and his daily exercise. But it seems to me better to
abstain from interfering with that kind of strong inclination
than to risk the evils of thwarting it. Perhaps scarcely any
person of mature years can conceive what the appetite for
reading is to a child. It goes off, or becomes changed in
mature years, to such a degree as to make the facts of a reading
childhood scarcely credible in remembrance, or even when
before our eyes. But it is all right ; and the process had better
not be disturbed. The apprehension of a child is so quick, his
conceptive faculty is so ravenous for facts and pictures, or the
merest suggestions, and he is so entirely free from those philo-
sophical checks which retard in adults the process of reception
from books, that he can, at ten years old, read the same book
twice as fast as he can, — if he duly improves meanwhile, —
twenty years later. I have seen a young girl read Moore's
Lalla Rookh through, except a very few pages, before break-
fast,— and not a late breakfast ; and not a passage of the poem
was ever forgotten. When she had done, the Arabian scenes
appeared to be the reality, and the breakfast-table and brothers
and sisters the dream : but that was sure to come right ; and
all the ideas of the thick volume were added to her store. I
have seen a school-boy of ten lay himself down, back upper-
most, with the quarto edition of " Thalaba" before him, on the
first day of the Easter Holidays, and turn over the leaves, not-
withstanding his inconvenient position, ns fast as if he was
looking for something, till, in a very few hours, it was done,
and he was off" with it to the public library, bringing back the

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.

145

" Curse of Kehama." Thus he went on with all Southey's
poems, and some others, through his short holidays, — scarcely
moving voluntarily all those days except to run to the library.
He came out of the process so changed, that none of his family
could help being struck by it. The expression of his eye, the
cast of his countenance, his use of words, and his very gait
were changed. In ten days, he had advanced years in intelli-
gence : and I have always thought that this was the turning-
point of his life. His parents wisely and kindly let him alone,
— aware that school would presently put an end to all excess
in the new indulgence. I can speak from experience of what
children feel towards parents who mercifully leave them to their
own propensities, — forbearing all reproach about the ill manners
and the selfishness of which the sinners are keenly conscious
all the while. Some children's greediness for books is like a
drunkard's for wine. They can no more keep their hands off
a beloved book than the tippler from the bottle before him.
The great difference as to the safety of the case is that the
child's greediness is sure to subside into moderation in time,
from the development of new faculties, while the drunkard's is
sure to go on increasing till all is over with him. If parents
would regard the matter in this way, they would neither be
annoyed at the excess of the inconvenient propensity, nor proud
of any child who has it. It is no sign yet of a superiority of
intellect ; much less of that wisdom which in adults is commonly
supposed to arise from large book-knowledge. It is simply a
natural appetite for that provision of ideas and images which
should, at this season, be laid in for the exercise of the higher
faculties which have yet to come into use. As I have said, I
know from experience the state of things which exists when a
chi'd cannot help reading to an amount which the parents
think excessive, and yet are unwilling, for good reasons, to
prohibit. One Sunday afternoon, when I was seven years old,
I was prevented by illness from going to chapel ; — a circum-
stance so rare that I felt very strange and listless. I did not
go to the maid who was left in the house, but lounged about

146

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

the drawing-room, where, among other books which the family
had been reading, was one turned down upon its face. It was
a dull-looking octavo volume, thick, and bound in calf, as
untempting a book to the eyes of a child as could well be seen ;
but, because it happened to be open, I took it up. The paper
was like skim milk, — thin and blue, and the printing very ordi-
nary. Moreover, I saw the word Argument, — a very repulsive
word to a child. But my eye caught the word " Satan and
I instantly wanted to know how anybody could argue about
Satan. I saw that he fell through chaos, found the place in
the poetry ; — and lived heart, mind, and soul in Milton from
that day till I was fourteen. I remember nothing more of that
Sunday, vivid as is my recollection of the moment of plunging
into chaos : but I remember that from that time till a young
friend gave me a pocket edition of Milton, the calf-bound
volume was never to be found because I had got it somewhere ;
and that, for all those years, to me the universe moved to Milton's
music. I wonder how much of it I knew by heart — enough
to be always repeating some of it to myself, with every change
of light and darkness, and sound and silence, — the moods of
the day and the seasons of the year. It was not my love of
Milton which required the forbearance of my parents, — except
for my hiding the book, and being often in an absent fit. It
was because this luxury had made me ravenous for more. I
had a book in my pocket, — a book under my pillow ; and in
my lap as I sat at meals ; or rather, on this last occasion, it was
a newspaper. I used to purloin the daily London paper before
dinner, and keep possession of it, — with a painful sense of the
selfishness of the act ; and with a daily pang of shame and self-
reproach, I slipped away from the table when the dessert was
set on, to read in another room. I devoured all Shakspeare,
sitting on a footstool, and reading by firelight, while the rest
of the family were still at table. I was incessantly wondering
that this was permitted ; and intensely, though silently grateful
I was for the impunity and the indulgence. It never extended
to the omission of any of my proper business. I learned my

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.

147

lessons ; but it was with the prospect of reading while I was
brushing ray hair at bedtime ; and many a time have I stood
reading, with the brush suspended, till I was far too cold to
sleep. I made shirts with due diligence, — being fond of sew-
ing; but it was with Goldsmith, or Thomson, or Milton open
on my lap, under my work, or hidden by the table, that I
might learn pages and cantos by heart. The event justified
my parents in their indulgence. I read more and more slowly,
fewer and fewer authors, and with ever-increasing seriousness
and reflection, till I became one of the slowest of readers, and
a comparatively sparing one. Of course, one example is not
a rule for all ; but the number of ravenous readers among
children is so large, and among adults so small in comparison,
that I am disposed to consider it a general fact that when the
faculties, naturally developed, reach a certain point of forward-
ness, it is the time for laying in a store of facts and impressions
from books which are needed for ulterior purposes.

The parents' main business during this process is to look to
the quality of the books read : — I mean merely to see that the
child has the freest access to those of the best quality. Nor
do I mean only to such as the parent may think good for a
child of such and such an age. The child's own mind is a
truer judge in this case than the parents' suppositions. Let
but noble books be on the shelf, — the classics of our language,
— and the child will get nothing but good.

The last thing that parents need fear is that the young reader
will be hurt by passages in really good authors which might
raise a blush a few years later. Whatever children do not un-
derstand slips through the mind, and leaves no trace ; and
what they do understand of matters of passion is to them di-
vested of its mischief. Purified editions of noble books are
monuments of wasted labour; for it ought to be with adults as
it is with children ; — their purity should be an all-sufficient
purifier.

The second stage in the Intellectual Education of the House

148 HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

hold children, then seems to be that in which the young crea-
tures, having learned to use their own limbs and senses, and
acquired the command of speech, begin to use their powers
for the acquisition of materials for future thought. They listen,
they look about them, they inquire, they read ; and, above all,
they dream. Life is for them all pictures. Everything comes
to them in pictures. In preparation for the more serious work
to come, the parent has chiefly to watch and follow Nature ; —
to meet the requirements of the child's mind, put the material
of knowledge in its way, and furnish it with the arts necessary
for the due use of its knowledge and its nobler powers: — the
arts of reading, ready writing, and the recording and working
of numbers; and the knowledge of the grammar of some one
language, at least. Besides this, these best days of his me-
mory should be used for storing up word-knowledge, and
technical rules, and, as a luxury after these dry efforts, as much
poetry as the pupil is disposed to learn ; which will be a good
deal, if the selection is, in any degree, left to his own choice :
and some portion of it may well be so.

Thus far, here is nothing that may not be supplied in the
most homely Household in the land, where there is any value
for the human intellect, and any intention to educate the chil-
dren. It is difficult to say what more could be done in the
school-room of a palace. The intellect of the high and low
is of the same nature, and developes itself in the same modes.
While its training depends on the love and good sense of pa-
rents, as in this stage, it depends simply on the quality of the
parents, whether the children of the palace or of the cottage
are the better educated.

" No'mystery is here ; no special boon
For high and not for low ; for proudly graced,
And not for meek of heart."

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.

149

CHAPTER XXI.

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING. THE REASONING FACULTIES.

FEMALE EDUCATION.

The time comes at last, — sooner with one child, later with
another, — when the superior faculties begin to show their acti-
vity; when the young pupil attempts to reason, and should be
helped to reason well. The preparation for this time ought to
have gone on during all the preceding years, in the establish-
ment of a perfect understanding between his parents' minds
and his own. He ought to have received nothing but truth
from them, in their intellectual, as in all their other intercourse.
What I mean is this. From the time he could speak, the
child has, no doubt, asked the Why of everything that inte-
rested him. Now, no one knows the ultimate Why of any-
thing whatever ; and it is right to say this to the inquirer, —
telling him as much as he can understand of the How ; and it
is but little that the wisest of us know of the How. For in-
stance, the little thing cries out, M 0 ! there is a robin !" " A
robin! and what is it doing?" " It is hopping about. It has
picked up something. O ! it is a worm. What does it get
the worm for ?" " To eat it. Robins eat a great many worms."
" Why do they eat worms ? Why does this robin eat that
worm?" " Because it is hungry." No intelligent child will
stop here. He will want to know why the robin does not
eat any thing rather than worms ; why the robin is hungry ;
and certainly he will sooner or later wonder why there are
robins at all. About these latter mysteries, the parent knows
no more than the questioner : and he should say so. He may-
tell something of the how ; — how the robin and all other living
creatures are impelled to eat ; how food gives nourishment ;
and so on. He may or may not, according to his judgment,
give information, as far as he has it himself : but it ought not
to be a matter of choice with him whether to put off a child

13*

150

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

with an unsatisfactory answer, or to declare truthfully his own
ignorance. He must never weary of replying " I don't know,"
if fairly brought to this point, after telling what he does know.
If he tells all that is understood of a tree and its growth, so
that he thinks his child cannot possibly have more to ask, he
will find there are other questions still to come. " Why are
trees green ?" If they are not all green, « Why is the red
beech red, and the pine black?" " Why does a tree grow,
instead of being always tall?" "Why is John Smith hand-
some while Tom Brown is ugly?" "Why do people exist
when they could not tell beforehand whether they should like
it or not!" Now, it will not do, if the child's mind is to be
fairly dealt with, to give a dogmatical answer ; to put off the
inquirer with a form of words, or any assurance of any thing
that is not absolutely known to be true. " I do not know,"
is the answer which parental fidelity requires. " Does any-
body know ?" is the next question. "Nobody." "Shall I
ever know?" " I don't think you ever will: but you can try
when you grow up, if you like." Of course, the child deter-
mines to try when he is a man: and meantime, he is satisfied
for the present. There is an understanding between his pa-
rent and himself, which will be of infinite use to him when his
time comes for finding out truth for himself by a comparison
of abstractions ; — that is, by reasoning.

With some abstractions every child becomes early familiar ;
as the days of the w7eek. Perhaps the first which he is able to
use for purposes of reasoning are numbers. They are at least
eminently useful as a link between tangible objects and those
which are ideal. A child sees on the table that two pins added
to two make four pins: and then that a button and a thimble
put down beside a marble and a halfpenny make four things,
as well as if they were all of the same sort. He thus receives
into his mind the abstract notion of numbers. Whenever by
his own thought, or by inquiry of others, he clearly sees that,
because two sixes make twelve, four threes must make twelve,
he has begun to reason. He has found out a truth by compar-

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.

151

ing an abstraction with an abstraction : that is, he has begun
to reason. Having begun, — having once satisfaction in grasp-
ing an invisible truth in this way, — he will be disposed to go
on : and I, for one, would allow him to do so, at his own pace.
Nothing can be more foolish than to stimulate the reasoning
faculiies too early ; but I do not see why their natural action
should be repressed because of a theory that the reasoning
faculties should not come into activity till such or such an age.
I know how painful such repression is to a thoughtful child,
and how useless is the attempt to stop the process, which will
only be carried on with less advantage, instead of being put
an end to. I knew a girl of eleven, thoughtful and timid, sel-
dom venturing to ask questions, or to open her mind about
what occupied it most, — who, on some unusual incitement to
confidence during a summer evening walk, opened a theme of
perplexity, to get a solution from a grown-up brother, whom she
regarded as able to solve anything. She told him that she could
not see how, if God foreknew everything, and could ordain every-
thing, men could ever be said to sin against him, or be justly
punished for anything they did : and then she went on to the other
particular of that problem ; — how, if God was all powerful to
create happiness, and all good to desire it, there came to be any
suffering in the world. Her brother answered her with kindness in
his tone, but injudiciously. He told her that that was a very seri-
ous question which she was too young to consider yet ; and
that some years hence would be time enough. She was dis-
satisfied and hurt: — not from pride, but because she felt it hard
to be left in a perplexity from which she fully supposed her
brother could relieve her. She felt that if she could ask the
question, — thus put in a definite form, — she must be capable
of understanding the answer. And so she undoubtedly was.
If the brother held the doctrine of free will, he should have
replied that he did not know; — that he could not understand
the perplexity any more than herself. If he held the necessa-
rian doctrine, he should have imparted to her; for her question
showed that she was capable of receiving it. The end of the

152

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

matter was that she suffered for years under that reply, never
again venturing to propose her difficulty to any one. She
worked her way through the soluble halt of the question alone
at last, — thinking first, and then reading, and then meditating
again, till all was clear and settled ; and in her mature years
she found herself fast anchored on the necessarian doctrine, —
rather wondering how she could have been so long in satisfy-
ing herself about a matter so clear, but aware that she had
found an inestimable gain ; — which she might have reposed
upon some years earlier, if the natural working of her faculties
had been trusted as it might have been.

Our enjoyment of our faculties appears to me to be more
proportioned to their quality than their strength ; — that, whe-
ther any one of us has the reasoning power, or the imagination
stronger or weaker than the perceptive and conceptive facul-
ties, he enjoys" most the exercise of the higher. Certainly,
children whose faculties are developed freely and fairly have an
intense relish for reasoning, while the mind remains unwearied.
The commonest topics voluntarily chosen are conduct and
character ; because the most familiar and interesting abstrac-
tions are those which are connected with morals. How boys
and girls will debate by the hour together about the stoicism
of Junius Brutus, and the patriotism of Brutus and Cassius ;
and about all the suicides of all Romans, and all the question-
able acts of all heroes ! The mother is the great resource here,
because she is always at hand ; and these matters are of such
pressing importance to the little people, that they cannot wait
till their father comes in, or can give them some of his evening
leisure. These topics are good as an exercise of both the mo-
ral and intellectual powers : but they do not yield full satisfac-
tion to the reasoning faculty, because they can never be brought
to any certain and evident issue. The conclusions of morals
are clear enough for practical guidance ; but they are not prova-
ble. For the full satisfaction of the reasoning faculties, there-
fore, children must set to work elsewhere. — They may get
something of it out of their lessons in grammar, if they are

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.

153

trusted with the sense of the grammar they are taught ; lighting
upon an accusative case and a verb in a Latin sentence, they
know there must be a nominative: and there it is presently,
accordingly. Finding an ablative absolute, they are confident
of finding some sort of proposition ; and there it is, to their
hand. The words on the page before them are as real to the
sense as the written numerals on their slates : but behind both
there is a working of unseen laws, — independent of the signi-
fication of either words or numerals, — whose operation and
issue it is a deep-felt pleasure to follow and apprehend. The
rules of grammar, and the laws of numbers, — (the rules of
arithmetic, in short,) — are abstractions proceeding from abstrac-
tions ; and their workings bring out a conclusion clear to the
pupil's apprehension, and unquestionable. This is all exercise
of the reasoning powers ; and it is this exercise of those pow-
ers, or the use of ear and memory only w7hich makes the dif-
ference between a pupil who learns grammar and arithmetic
with the understanding or by rote.

I once witnessed a curious instance of the difference between
the reasoning pupils of a class at school and the learners by
rote. The test was, I think, designed by the master to be a
test ; and it answered his purpose even better than our strenu-
ous exercises in grammar and arithmetic. Our master proposed
to give some of us an idea of English composition, and said he
wTould next week explain to us how to set about it. Some of
us, however, wrere all on fire with the idea of writing essays,
and were by no means disposed to wait. The next time our
master entered the school-room, eight or ten pairs of beseeching
eyes were fixed upon him; and he, being a good-natured man,
asked what wTe wished. What we wanted was to be allowed
immediately to write an essay on Music. He had no objection ;
but he asked for some precision in the object of the essay ; —
proposed that it should be the Uses of Psalmody, or some such
topic, which could be treated in the limits of a school theme ;
— but no ; he saw by the faces and manner of the class that it
must be an essay on Music. 1 was the youngest of the class,

154

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

who ranged from eleven to sixteen : and I wondered whether
the elder ones felt as I did when I saw the little smile at the
corners of the mouth, amidst the careful respect of our kind
master. I felt that we were somehow doing something very
silly, though I could not clearly see what. It was plain enough
when we brought up our themes. Our master's respect and
kindness never failed : and he now was careful to say that there

was much that was true in each essay ; but . We saw

the « but" for ourselves, and were ready to sink with shame;
for nobody had courage to begin to laugh at our folly. Such
a mass of rhapsody and rhodomontade as we presented to our
master ! Such highflying, incoherent nonsense ! Each was
pretty well satisfied with her own rhapsody till she heard the
seven or nine others read. "Now, perhaps you perceive," our
master began : and indeed we saw it all ; — the lack of order
and object; — the flimsiness, — and our own presumption. We
were now more ready to be taught. Some, however, could
not yet learn ; and others liked this lesson better than any they
had ever attempted. This is the difference which induces me
to tell the story here. We were taught the parts of a theme,
as our master and many other approved and practised them, in
sermons and essays : and the nature and connexion of these
parts were so clearly pointed out, that on the instant it appeared
to me that a sudden light was cast at once on the processes of
thought and of composition, — for both of which I had before
an indistinct and somewhat oppressive reverence. I saw how
the Proposition, the Reason, the Example, the Confirmation,
and the Conclusion led out the subject into order and clearness,
and, in fact, regularly emptied our minds of what we had to
say upon it. From that day till our school was broken up
(and my heart nearly broken with it) a year and a half after-
wards, the joy of my life was writing themes ; — or rather com-
posing them ; for the act of writing was terribly irksome. But
that which some of us eminently enjoyed was altogether bur-
densome to others, from the procedure of the task being utterly
unintelligible. I suppose their reasoning faculties were yet

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.

155

unawakened, — though they were not so very young. The
Proposition they usually wrote down in the words in which
our subject was given to us: — the mere title of the theme. The
Reason was any sort of reason about any affair whatever, — the
authors protesting that a reason was a reason any day. The
Examples were begged, or copied out of any history book.
The Confirmation was omitted, or declared to consist in " the
universal experience of mankind," — whatever the subject
might be : and as for the Conclusion, that was easy enough : —
it was only to say that for all the reasons given, the author
concluded so and so, — in the words of the title. This was a
case in which it would have been better to wait awhile, till the
meaning of the task and its method should dawn upon the
minds yet unready. But, for those who were capable, it was
a task of great pleasure and privilege ; and we loved our mas-
ter for testing and trusting our faculties in a direction so new
to us.

Those studies which require reasoning as a means to a prove-
able issue are of a high order, as regards both profit and plea-
sure : and boys and girls will be the better through life for
whatever mathematical training their parents can procure for
them. Be it little or be it much, they will have reason to be
grateful as long as they live for what they can obtain. I men-
tion girls, as well as boys, confident that every person able to
see the right, and courageous enough to utter it, will sanction
what I say. I must declare that on no subject is more nonsense
talked, (as it seems to me,) than on that of female education,
when restriction is advocated. In works otherwise really good
we find it taken for granted that girls are not to learn the dead
languages and mathematics, because they are not to exercise
professions where these attainments are wanted; and a little
further on we find it said that the chief reason for boys and
young men studying these things is to improve the quality of
their minds. I suppose none of us will doubt that everything
possible should be done to improve the quality of the mind of
every human being. — If it is said that the female brain is inca-

156

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION".

pable of studies of an abstract nature, — that is not true : for
there are many instances of women who have been good mathe-
maticians, and good classical scholars. The plea is indeed
nonsense on the face of it; for the brain which will learn French
will learn Greek; the brain which enjoys arithmetic is capable
of mathematics. — Tf it is said that women are light-minded and
superficial, the obvious answer is that their minds should be
the more carefully sobered by grave studies, and the acquisi-
tion of exact knowledge. — If it is said that their vocation in
life does not require these kinds of knowledge, — that is giving
up the main plea for the pursuit of them by boys ; — that it im-
proves the quality of their minds If it is said that such studies

unfit women for their proper occupations, — that again is untrue.
Men do not attend the less to their professional business, their
counting-house or their shop, for having their minds enlarged
and enriched, and their faculties strengthened by sound and
various knowledge ; nor do women on that account neglect the
wrork-basket, the market, the dairy and the kitchen. If it be
true that women are made for these domestic occupations, then
of course they will be fond of them. They will be so fond of
what comes most naturally to them that no book-study (if really
not congenial to their minds) will draw them off from their
homely duties. For my part, I have no hesitation whatever in
saying that the most ignorant women I have known have been
the worst housekeepers ; and that the most learned women I
have known have been among the best, — wherever they have
been early taught and trained to household business, as every
woman ought to be. A woman of superior mind knows better
than an ignorant one what to require of her servants, how to
deal with trades-people, and how to economize time : she is
more clear-sighted about the best ways of doing things ; has a
richer mind with which to animate all about her, and to solace
her own spirit in the midst of her labours. If nobody doubts
the difference in pleasantness of having to do with a silly and
narrow-minded woman and with one who is intelligent and en-
lightened, it must be clear that the more intelligence and enlight-

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.

157

enment there is, the better. One of the best housekeepers I
know, — a simple-minded, affectionate-hearted woman, whose
table is always fit for a prince to sit down to, whose house is
always neat and elegant, and whose small income yields the
greatest amount of comfort, is one of the most learned women
ever heard of. When she was a little girl, she was sitting sew-
ing in the window-seat while her brother was receiving his first
lesson in mathematics from his tutor. She listened, and was
delighted with what she heard ; and when both left the room,
she seized upon the Euclid that lay on the table, ran up to her
room, went over the lesson, and laid the volume where it was
before. Every day after this, she sat stitching away and listen-
ing, in like manner, and going over the lesson afterwards, till
one day she let out the secret. Her brother could not answer
a question which was put to him two or three times ; and, with-
out thinking of anything else, she popped out the answer.
The tutor was surprised, and after she had told the simple
truth, she was permitted to make what she could of Euclid.
Some time after, she spoke confidentially to a friend of the
family, — a scientific professor, — asking him, wTith much hesita-
tion and many blushes, whether he thought it was wrong for a
woman to learn Latin. " Certainly not," he said; ''provided
she does not neglect any duty for it. — But why do you want to
learn Latin?" She wanted to study Newton's Principia: and
the professor thought this a very good reason. Before she was
grown into a woman, she had mastered the Principia of Newton.
And now, the great globe on which we live is to her a book in
which she reads the choice secrets of nature ; and to her the
last known wonders of the sky are disclosed : and if there is a
home more graced with accomplishments, and more filled with
comforts, I do not know such an one. Will anybody say that
this woman would have been in any way better without her
learning? — while we may confidently say that she would have
been much less happy.

As for women not wanting learning, or superior intellectual
training, that is more than any one should undertake to say in

158

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

our day. In former times, it was understood that every wo-
man, (except domestic servants,) was maintained by her father,
brother or husband ; but it is not so now. The footing of wo-
men is changed, and it will change more. Formerly, every
woman was destined to be married ; and it was almost a mat-
ter of course that she would be : so that the only occupation
thought of for a woman was keeping her husband's house, and
being a wife and mother. It is not so now. From a variety
of causes, there is less and less marriage among the middle
classes of our country ; and much of the marriage that there is
does not take place till middle life. A multitude of women
have to maintain themselves who would never have dreamed
of such a thing a hundred years ago. This is not the place for
a discussion whether this is a good thing for women or a bad
one ; or for a lamentation that the occupations by which wo-
men might maintain themselves are so few ; and of those few,
so many engrossed by men. This is not the place for a specula-
tion as to whether women are to grow into a condition of self-
maintenance, and their dependence for support upon father,
brother and husband to become only occasional. With these
considerations, interesting as they are, we have no business at
this moment. What we have to think of is the necessity, — in
all justice, in all honour, in all humanity, in all prudence, —
that every girl's faculties should be made the most of, as care-
fully as boys'. While so many women are no longer sheltered,
and protected, and supported, in safety from the world (as
people used to say) every woman ought to be fitted to take
care of herself. Every woman ought to have that justice done
to her faculties that she may possess herself in all the strength
and clearness of an exercised and enlightened mind, and may
have at command, for her subsistence, as much intellectual
power and as many resources as education can furnish her with.
Let us hear nothing of her being shut out, because she is a
woman, from any study that she is capable of pursuing: and if
one kind of cultivation is more carefully attended to than
another, let it be the discipline and exercise of the reasoning

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.

159

faculties. From the simplest rules of arithmetic let her go on,
as her brother does, as far into the depths of science, and up to
the heights of philosophy as her powers and opportunities per-
mit ; and it will certainly be found that the more she becomes
a reasoning creature, the more reasonable, disciplined and
docile she will be : the more she knows of the value of know-
ledge and of all other things, the more diligent she will be ; —
the more sensible of duty, — the more interested in occupations,
— the more womanly. This is only coming round to the points
we started from ; that every human being is to be made as per-
fect as possible ; and that this must be done through the most
complete development of all the faculties.

CHAPTER XXII.

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING. — THE IMAGINATIVE FACULTIES.

The young mind is very well entertained for a time by the
exercise of its reasoning powers, — if, instead of being baffled,
they are encouraged and trained. But, there is a higher set of
faculties still which begin to work ere long ; and usually in
such proportion to the reasoning powers as would seem to indi-
cate some connexion between them. Or it may be that the
moral fervour which gives great advantage to the reasoning
powers is exactly that which is essential to the development of
the highest of human faculties, — the Imagination. Certain it
is that the children who most patiently and earnestly search out
the reasons of things, — either looking deep into causes, or fol-
lowing them high up to consequences, are those who most
strongly manifest the first stirrings of the heavenly power which
raises them highest in the ranks of being known to exist. They
may, or they may not, have shown a power of Fancy before
this time. They may, or they may not, have manifested a

160

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

strong conceptive faculty ; a power of forming images of objects
already well known or clearly described; but, if they can so
think of unseen things, so compare them and connect them, as
to bring truth out at last, — if, in short, they reflect and reason
well, the probability is that they will prove to have a good por-
tion of the higher faculty of Imagination. At least, we may be
sure that a child of high imaginative faculty has good reason-
ing powers.

During the first exercise of the reasoning powers a child
may, and probably will, become thoughtful. He will look
grave at times, and be buried in reflection for awhile : but this
gravity does not make him less cheerful ; and when he has
done thinking about the particular thing his head was full of, he
is as merry as ever. But a little later, and his thoughtfulness
becomes something quite different from this. If there is some
mingling of melancholy with it, the parents must not be uneasy.
It is all natural, and therefore right. He is beginning to see
and to feel his position in the universe ; to see and to feel that
by the powers within him he is connected with all that exists,
and can conceive of all that may exist : and his new conscious-
ness gives a light to his eye and a meaning to his countenance
that were never seen there before. While he was an infant, he
was much like any other young animal for his thoughtless and
unconscious enjoyment of all the good things that were strewed
in his daily path. Then, he began to see deeper, — into the
reasons of things, and their connexions ; and now he had be-
come higher than other young animals, — for they cannot per-
ceive the truths of numbers, or discover by thought anything
not before known in any science. But now, he has become
conscious of himself ; he can contemplate himself as he can
contemplate any other object of thought ; and he is occupied
in connecting his own thoughts, — his own mind — with every
object of thought. It is upon his consciousness and his thoughts
united that his imaginative power has to act. By it, he sees
everything in a new light, and feels everything with a new
depth : and though he often finds this a glorious pleasure, he

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.

161

is sometimes much oppressed by it : and then comes the kind
of gentle melancholy before referred to.

See the difference, to the child of dull imagination, or of an
age too young for it, and the child superior in years or in
faculty, — when they contemplate Nature, or Human Life, or
anything whatever; — when they read the History of England,
or Conversations on Chemistry, or Shakspeare's Plays, or any-
thing you please. Show them the sky as you are coming home
at night. The one will learn to know the constellations as
easily perhaps as the other, and will show somebody else the
next night which is the Great Bear, and which is Orion : but
the duller or younger child sees nothing more than what is
before its eyes ; or, if told that all those stars are worlds,
believes it without seeing or feeling anything beyond the mere
fact as conveyed in the words. But at the same moment tke
faculty of Imagination in the other child is kindling up within
him, — and kindling all his other powers. He sees, by his mind,
far, far beyond the bounds of human measurement and the hu-
man sight ; — sees the universe full of rolling suns ; worlds for
ever moving in their circles, and never clashing ; worlds of
which there are myriads vaster than our own globe. All this
he sees, not by gazing at the sky ; for he sees it better when
his head is on his pillow, — or when his hands are busy with
some mechanical employment, the next day. If he feels how,
with all his busy mind and swelling heart, and whole world of
ideas, he is yet but an atom in this great universe, almost too
small for notice, is not this enough to make him thoughtful ?
and if there is a tinge of melancholy in his seriousness, may it
not be allowed for ? Again, in reading the History of England,
— the duller or younger child may remember the kings, and the
great men, and the great battles, and the great famine and
plague ; and perhaps almost all the events told : and, if he has
some considerable conceptive faculty, he may have pictures in
his mind of the ancient Britons, and then of King Alfred and
his people ; and then of the Normans coming over and landing,
and establishing themselves in our island. But the superior

14*

162

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

child sees all this, and very much more. The minds of all
the people he reads of are as manifest to him as the events of
their lives. He feels the wild valour of the old Britons while
he reads of them ; and his soul melts in reverence, and grief,
and pity for King Alfred ; and then it glows with courage ;
and then it grows calm with faith as he sees the courage and
faith that were in King Alfred. And so on, through the whole
history. And even more than this. He sees more than the
individuals of whom he reads could see of themselves. The
kingdom and the nation are ideas in his mind, as vivid as
his idea of the personages he reads of. He feels when the
nation is rising or falling ; rejoices when a great and good man,
— a sage, or a patriot, or a martyr — arises to bless his race, and
burns with indignation and grief when the wicked have their
own way. Is there not something here to make him thought-
ful ? and if there is a tinge of melancholy in his seriousness,
may it not be allowed for? Suppose these two to read
" Conversations on Chemistry," or " Scientific Dialogues,"
— they will see and feel as differently as in the former
cases. The inferior child will find some entertainment, and
particularly if allowed to try chemical experiments : but these
experiments will be to him a sort of cookery ; — a putting things
together, in order to succeed in producing some result, — amus-
ing or pretty. His smattering of Chemistry is to him now a
plaything, whatever it may become when he is wiser. But
how different is it wTith the elder one, whose awakened imagi-
nation now silently enters with him into every chamber of his
own mind and every scene of nature — opening his vision with
a divine touch, and showing him everything in its vastness and
its inner truth ! He does not want to try chemical experiments.
He would rather think quietly of the great agents of Nature,
and see them, with the eye of his mind, for ever at their work ;
— Heat, spreading through all things, and even hiding in the
polar ice ; — Electricity, darting and streaming through all sub-
stances, and being the life of all that lives; and the flowing
together and mixing of three airs to make air that we can

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.

163

breathe, — this flowing together and mixing having gone on
ever since there were breathing creatures on the globe ; — these
great images, and those of the forces of the .waters, the pres-
sure of the atmosphere, the velocities of motion, — the mechani-
cal action, in short, of the great forces of Nature, occupy and
move him more than any outward methods of proof of what
has been laid open to him. Or, if he tries experiments, the
thing that impresses him is something far higher than amuse-
ment: — it is wonder and awe, and perhaps delight that he can
put his hand in among the forces of Nature, and take his share,
and set Nature to work for him. Is it any wonder that his
heart throbs, and his eyes swim or kindle, and that he had
rather think than speak ? And may he not be left undisturbed
at such a moment, till his mind takes a lower tone ?

It is this faculty which has produced the highest benefits to
the human race that it has ever enjoyed. The highest orfter of
men who have lived are those in whom the power of Imagina-
tion has been the strongest, the most disciplined, and the most
elevated. The noblest gifts that have been given to men are
the ideas which have proceeded from such minds. It is this
order of mind alone that creates. Others may discover, and
adapt, and improve, and establish : but it is the imaginative
order of mankind that creates, — whether it be the majestic
steam-engine, or the immortal picture, or the divine poem. It
should be a joyful thing to parents, — though it must be a serious
one, — to see clear tokens in any child of the development of
this faculty, — the faculty of seeing things invisible, — of " seeing
things that are not as though they were." If it is only of
average strength, it is a true blessing, inasmuch as it ennobles
the views and the life of the individual, if its benefit extends no
further in a direct manner. If it appears in any marked degree,
the parents' hearts cannot but be elated, though they may be
anxious. It is a sign of natural nobility, — of a privilege higher
than hereditary or acquired honour : and greater than a monarch
can bestow. Through it, if it be rightly trained, its possessor
must enjoy the blessings of largeness of heart and wealth of

164

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

mind, and probably of being a benefactor, more or less, to his
race.

Now, — what are the tokens of this endowment ? and how
should it be treated ?

When a young person's views extend beyond the objects
immediately presented to him, it is naturally seen in his counte-
nance, manner, speech and habits. The questions he asks, the
books he reads, his remarks on what he reads or hears, all show
whether his mind is deeply employed. He is probably a great
reader ; and if he has been religiously brought up, he probably
becomes intensely religious about the time of the development
of his higher faculties He must be treated with great con-
sideration and tenderness. If he is of an open disposition, apt
to tell of his daydreams and aspirations, there must be no ridi-
cule,— no disrespect from any part of the household. There
ought to be none ; for it is pretty certain that any day dreams
and aspirations of his are more worthy of respect than any ridi-
cule with which they can be visited. The way to strengthen
and discipline his mind is not, as we have often said already,
to repress any of its faculties, but to employ them well. In no
case is this management more important than in the present.

Now, in this important period of youthful life, it is the greatest
possible blessing if the son or daughter be on terms of perfect
confidence with the mother. It is a kind of new life to a
mother who has kept her mind and heart active and warm
amidst her trials and cares, to enter into sympathy with the
aspirations and imaginations of her ripening children. She has
a keen enjoyment in the revival of her own young feelings and
ideas ; — some of the noblest she has known ; and things which
might appear extravagant at another time or from other per-
sons, will be noble and animating as coming from those whose
minds, — minds which she has watched from their first move-
ments,— are now rapidly opening into comparative maturity.
To her, then, the son or daughter need not fear to speak freely
and openly. To her they may pour out their admiration of
Nature, their wonder at the sublimities of science; their specu-

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.

165

lations upon character : their soundings in the abysses of life
and death ; their glorious dreams of what they will be and do.
The more she sympathizes with them in their intellectual plea-
sures and tendencies, the more will her example tell upon them
as a conscientious doer of the small duties of life : and thus she
may silently and unconsciously obviate one of the chief dan-
gers of this period of her children's lives. If they see that the
mother who glows with the warmth of their emotions, and goes
abroad through the universe hand in hand, as wTe may say,
with them, to note and enjoy all that is mighty and beautiful,
all that is heroic and sweet, — is yet as punctual in her every-
day duty as the merest plodder and worldling, they will take
shame to themselves for any reluctance that they feel to com-
monplace ideas and what seems to them drudgery. Full con-
fidence and sympathy are the first requisites of the treatment of
this period.

But the wise parent will have laid up material for the em-
ployment of the imaginative faculty, long before it can appear
in any strength. The child will have been familiarized with
a high and noble order of ideas ; and especially of moral ideas ;
for the picturesque or scientific will be pretty sure to make
themselves duly appreciated by the awakened ideal faculties.
Whatever the parent can tell of heroic conduct, of lofty charac-
ter, of the grave crises and affecting changes of human life,
will be so much material laid in for the virtuous and salutary
use of those awakening faculties which might otherwise be
occupied in selfishness and other mischief. Let the mind be
abundantly ministered to. This may be done in the most
homely households where there is any nobility of mind. Every
parent has known some person who is noble and worthy of con-
templation for character and conduct. Every parent can tell
some moving or striking tale of a human lot. To all, the
heavens and the earth, the sea, and all that in them is, are
open for contemplation. In every household, there is the
Bible : and in the houses of all who read this, there is, no
doubt, Milton, on the shelf beside the Bible. With these

166

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

parents have means enough for the education of their children's
highest faculties. In these they hold a greater treasure than
any other that can be found in royal abodes : and the kingdom
of Nature is a field which their children have free license to
rove with the highest. Let them have and enjoy these treasures
abundantly. Let them read all tales of noble adventure that
can be obtained for them ; — of the heroes that have struggled
through Polar ice and burning African sands; that have sailed
on past the horizon of hope in the discovery of new continents,
and have succeeded through faith, courage and patience. Let
the reading of good fiction be permitted, where the desire is
strong. Some of the highest interests of English history have
been opened to the present generation by the novels of Scott,
as to many a preceding one by the Plays of Shakspeare. My
own opinion is that no harm is done, but much good, by an
early reading of fiction of a high order : and no one can question
its being better than leaving the craving mind to feed upon
itself, — its own dreams of vanity or other selfishness, — or to
seek an insufficient nourishment from books of a lower order.
The imagination, once awakened, must and will work, and
ought to work. Let its working be ennobled, and not debased,
by the material afforded to it.

In the parents' sympathy must be included forbearance ;
forbearance with the uncertainty of temper and spirits, the
extravagance of ideas, the absurd ambition, or fanaticism or,
(as it is generally called,) "romance" which show themselves
more or less, on the opening of a strong imaginative faculty.
It should be remembered that the young creature is half-living
in a new world ; and that the difficulty of reconciling this
beloved new world with the familiar old one is naturally very
trying to one who is just entering upon the struggles of the
mind and of life. He cannot reconcile the world and its ways
and its people with the ideals which are presenting themselves
to him ; and he becomes, for a time, irritable, or scornful, or
depressed. One will be fanatical, for a time, and sleep on the
boards, and make and keep a vow never to smile. Another

INTELLECTUAL TRAINING.

167

will be discontented, and apparently ungrateful, for a time, in
the idea that he might be a hero if he had certain advantages
which are not given him. Another looks down already on all
his neighbours on account of the great deeds he is to do by
and by: and all are convinced, — every youth and maiden of
them all, — that nobody can enter into their feelings, — nobody
understand their minds, — nobody conceive of emotions and
aspirations like theirs. At the moment, this is likely to be
true ; for their ideas and emotions are vast and stirring, beyond
their own power to express ; and it can scarcely happen that
any one is at hand, just at the right season, to receive their
outpourings, and give them credit for more than they can tell.
With all the consequences of these new movements of the
mind, the parents must have forbearance, — even to the point
(if it must be) of witnessing an intimacy with some young
companion, not very wise, who is the depository of more con-
fidence than is offered to those who should be nearest and
dearest. These waywardnesses and follies may have their
day, and prove after all to have been, in their way, wholesome
discipline. Every waywardness brings its smart ; and every
folly leaves its sting of shame in the mind that is high enough
to manifest any considerable power of imagination. They will
punish and cure themselves ; and probably in a short time.
Nature may be trusted here, as everywhere. If we have
patience to let her work, without hindrance and without degra-
dation, she will justify our confidence at last. Give her free
scope, — remove out of her way everything that is low and
sordid, and needlessly irritating, and minister to her everything
that is pure and gentle, and noble and true, and she will pro-
duce a glorious work. In the wildest flights of haughty and
undisciplined imagination, the young aspirant will take heed
enough to the beauty and dignity of a lowly, and dutiful and
benignant walk in life, to come dowTn and worship it when
cruder visions have passed away. It is only to wait, in gentle-
ness and cheerfulness, and the wild rhapsodist, or insolent
fanatic will work his way through his snares into a new world

168

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

of filial, as well as other duty, and, without being less of a poet,
but because he is more of one, will be a better son and brother
and neighbour, — making his life his highest poem.

It will be said that we have here, in treating of the training
of the intellectual faculties, recurred to the department of mo-
rals. And this is true. No part of human nature can work
in isolation ; and when we treat of any function by itself, it is
for the convenience of our understandings, and not as a fol-
lowing of nature. No intellectual faculty can act independently
of the moral ; and the higher the faculties, the closer we find
their interaction ; till we arrive at the fact that Veneration,
Benevolence, Hope, Conscientiousness and Firmness cannot
act to perfection except in company with a vigorous faculty of
Imagination, and strong Reflective powers : and again, that
the Reasoning and Imaginative powers can never work to their
fullest capacity unless the highest of the moral powers are as
active as themselves. In all true poetry, there is a tacit ap-
peal to the sanction of Conscience, and Veneration and Bene-
volence are the heavenly lights which rise upon the scene:
while, on the other hand, no Reverence is so deep, Benevo-
lence so pure, as those which are enriched by the profoundest
Thought, and refined and exalted by the noblest Idealism.

These truths bring us to a practical consideration as serious
as any which our minds can receive and dwell upon. My own
sense of it is so strong, and so confirmed by the experience of
a life, that I feel that if I had the utmost power of thought and
language that were ever possessed by the human being, I
could do no justice to it: — that the only means of improving
the morale to the utmost, is by elevating the ideal of the indi-
vidual. It is well to improve the conduct, and satisfy the con-
science of the child by calling upon its resolution to amend its
faults in detail, — to control its evil tempers, and overcome its
indolence and laxity : but this is a temporary method, insuffi-
cient for its ultimate needs. The strength of resolution fails
when the season of youth is past, or is employed on other ob-
jects ; and it is rare, as we all know, to see faults amended,

CARE OF THE HABITS. — IMPORTANCE OF HABIT. 169

and bad habits overcome in mature years; and then, if im-
provement proceeds, radically and continuously, it is by the
mind being placed under good influences, operating both pow-
erfully and continuously. Of good influences, the most pow-
erful and continuous is the presence in the mind of a lofty
ideal. This is the great central fire which is always fed by
the material it draws to itself, and which can hardly be extiu-
guished. When the whole mind is possessed with the image
of the godlike, ever growing with the expansion of the intelli-
gence, and ever kindling with the glow of the affections, every
passion is consumed, every weakness grows into the opposite
strength ; and the entire force of the moral life, set free from
the exclusive care of the details of conduct, and from the in-
cessant anxiety of self-regards, is at liberty to actuate the
whole harmonious being in its now necessary pursuit of the
highest moral beauty it can conceive of. To this godlike in-
spiration, strong and lofty powers of Thought and Imagination
are essential : and if parents desire that their children should
be what they are made to be, — » but a little lower than the
angels," — they must cherish these powers as the highest sources
of moral inspiration.

CHAPTER XXIII.

CARE OF THE HABITS. — IMPORTANCE OF HABIT.

The importance of Habit is an old subject ; as old as any
in morals. For thousands of years, moralists and philosophers
have written and preached about it; and everybody is con-
vinced by what they say. But I much doubt whether, even
yet, many penetrate into the depth of the matter. Everybody
sees, and everybody has felt the difficulty of breaking bad
habits, and that there is no security to virtue so strong as long-

170

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

formed good habits: but my observation compels me to think
that scarcely anybody is aware of the whole truth ; — that every
human being (except such as are born defective) might be
made perfectly good if his parents were wise enough to do all
that might be done by the power of Habit. This seems a bold
thing to say, but I am convinced that it is true.

I am aware that we cannot expect to see any parents wise
enough to know how to make the fullest use of this power :
and perhaps there are none, even of the tenderest parents, who
can keep themselves up to an incessant vigilance over their
infants, without any carelessness or nagging. Sometimes they
are busy ; sometimes they are tired ; sometimes they are dis-
heartened. They are not perfectly wise and good themselves ;
and therefore they must sink below the mark, more or less.
But I am sure it would be a great help to their strength, and
vigilance, and heartiness, if they could clearly see how easily
their children may be made anything they please.

The great points for conscientious parents, are to be fully
convinced of the supreme importance of the formation of
Habits, and to begin early enough. If they will begin early
enough, they will be sure to be convinced. But a pretty
strong conviction may be had beforehand, by observation of
the history and character of mankind.

Habits of Belief are the most important of all : and every-
body thinks so : and of all beliefs those which relate to Duty,
— those which are called religious — are the highest. Now,
look around the world, and see how many individuals you can
find, who have inquired out for themselves what they think
they believe. As for nations, — a nation of independent think-
ers is a thing never dreamed of. Such a spectacle as that has
never been seen in the wildest visions of the most sanguine of
poets and moralists. I have travelled among heathens, Mo-
hammedans, Jews, and many kinds of Christians ; and I have
found them all believing what they were taught, before they
could reason, to hold as sacred truth ; and this was exactly
what their teachers were themselves taught to suppose (for one

CARE OF THE HABITS. — IMPORTANCE OF HABIT. 171

cannot call this Belief) in the same manner. The Red Indian,
on the shores of the American lakes, and on the wide prairie,
is brought up, from the time that he can understand language
at all, to believe that there is a Great Spirit who lives far away
over the waters or beyond the forests, who is jealous and angry
if the people do not offer to him whatever they like best ; — who
forbids them to touch whatever he wants for himself; — who
has favourites among their warriors, and is most pleased with
those who most torture their bodies, to show their bravery.
The Indian believes in a good many inferior spirits, who do
him good or harm, and mingle more in his affairs than the
Great Spirit does. This is the Indian way of thinking ; and
every Indian child grows up to think in the same way, upon
the whole, though one may be more sure than another of
one or another part of the doctrine. No one of the whole
tribe asks for any proof that things are so. The early habit of
taking these doctrines for granted, as something solemn and
sacred, which somebody must have known for true a long time
ago, prevents any one but a thoughtful person here and there
ever inquiring whether there is really any knowledge existing
about the matter at all, or only superstition. Then, there are
the Jews. Not one Jew in ten thousand ceases to be a Jew
in religion ; and nobody out of the Jewish body ever gets to
think as they do ; — to hold their doctrines, and their traditions,
and their superstitions. Next, in order of time, come the
Christians. There are many bodies of Christians, differing as
much from one another as if they held faiths called by different
names. There are the Christians of the Greek Church, wor-
shipping many gods under the name of saints ; — some thinking
it blasphemy not to adore the Emperor of Russia next to God,
and some paying their first homage to the Virgin with Three
Hands. There are the Christians of the Romish Church, who
are shocked at the Emperor of Russia for not being one of
them ; and shocked at the Protestants for not worshipping the
bones and toe-nails of their saints. And there are the Pro-
testant Christians, who are shocked at the superstitions of the

172

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

Romish Church on the one hand, and at the doctrines of every
Protestant sect but their own, on the other. Then come the
Mohammedans, who think it exactly as impious in all Chris-
tians not to receive Mohammed, their prophet, whom they
think a greater than Christ, as the Christians think it impious
in the Jews not to receive Christ, whom they hold to be greater
than Moses. The children of all these multitudes, (except in
an extremely rare case here and there,) receive what they are
early told, as their parents received it before them ; and no
one supposes that any one of those vast multitudes would
think and feel as he does on matters of religion if he were not
early habituated to think and feel as he does. Can we imagine
any one of ourselves, concluding for ourselves, for instance,
that the most solemn and sacred of human duties was to go
through a set of prostrations and gestures, like those of the
Mohammedans, five times a day as long as we live, unless we
wrere taught, from early infancy, to consider such acts to be in
the highest degree virtuous? Can we imagine ourselves think-
ing, as the Mohammedans do, that every man who does not
go through this set of gestures five times every day, is careless
about goodness altogether, — is an Infidel (which is the Moham-
medan name for a Christian) — is wicked, and must be cast
into hell ? More persons in the world believe this than believe
in the gods of the Red Indian, and the faith of the Jews, and
the doctrines of all bodies of Christians put together. Yet it
is incredible that any man would so believe, — so undoubt-
ingly, so solemnly, if he had not been habituated to such a
belief from the very beginning. If the beliefs of the majority
of mankind are thus dependant upon habit, — if their faith and
their views of duty and happiness, — (the most important of all
views,) have this origin, how is it possible to overrate the im-
portance of Habit ? If, turning away from the Greek Chris-
tians and the Mohammedans, we contemplate in our imagina-
tion, a large sect or nation who should have been habituated,
from the first dawning of intelligence, to regard perfect good-
ness as the most sacred and solemn and beautiful thing that

CARE OF THE HABITS. — IMPORTANCE OF HABIT. 1 73

the human mind can conceivre of, — as a thing the most interest-
ing and important to every human being, — and a thing within
the reach of every one of us, is it conceivable that such a peo-
ple would not be the most virtuous ever seen on earth ? Let
it not be said that children are so taught, — that such is the
habit of their minds in our Christian country : for alas ! it is
very much otherwise. They are occasionally told, indeed,
that Christ desired his followers to be perfect as their Father
in heaven is perfect ; but this is not the aim steadily and cheer-
fully set before any child, as a hopeful enterprise, — as the best
thing in the world, and as a thing which must be done. No
child sees that this object is what his parents are living for, in
comparative disregard of everything else : and that this is
what he ought to live for, and is expected certainly to accom-
plish, according to his means. While he is told, and pretty
often, that the best thing in the world is to be good, he is ha-
bituated, by what he sees and hears almost all day long, to
believe that it is a hopeless thing to become perfectly good,
and that every body tries, in fact, for something else, with
more zeal and expectation ; — to get knowledge, to get reputa-
tion, to get employment, and comfort, — to get all manner of
pleasant things by their own desires and exertions, while they
trust that some power will make them good, without that un-
remitting desire and exertion on their parts which alone can
make them so.

I have before me the Remarks of a conscientious and affec-
tionate father on the essential and unlimited power of Habit in
the rearing of Children ; — a truth which he had heard of all his
life, but never fairly estimated till he had employed his energies
on the eflucation of his own family. I do not know who he is ;
but I see by the pamphlet before me* that he is earnest and
intelligent, and qualified to speak from experience. Earnest
he must be, for it appears that it was his constant habit, during
the infancy of his children, to rise in the night, to see that they

* " Remarks on the Advantages of early Training and Management of Chil.
dren." By a Colonist. Ollivier, 59, Pall-Mali.

15*

174

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

were well, and sleeping peacefully: and he invariably went
with them to school, and met them at the school door, to bring
them home again, — more than a mile, — though he was a busy
man, — obliged to work for their bread and his own. This
earnest observer says " I now repeat the opinion that every
child born, not insane or idiotic, might, to a moral certainty,
be trained to be a gentle, a benevolent, and a pious adult. Of
the correctness of this opinion I have long ceased to have any
doubt. Holding this opinion to be positively correct, I next
held that the universal belief of its correctness would soon lead
to an amount of improvement in the several conditions of
human existence that would exceed even my owTn sanguine
expectations. The encouragement which this belief would
give to parents would bring into active and affectionate exer-
tion an amount of attention and devotion to the training of the
infant feelings and propensities of their offspring, such as here-
tofore has never been exercised, or perhaps ever imagined. I
would, therefore, spread this belief among all mankind, by
every means in my power to employ, and with it my opinions
of the kind of teaching, or rather training, by which such
blessed results might be produced. To describe this kind of
teaching, or training, is not at present in my power to do, to a
due extent. I will but give one brief rule, namely, 4 What you
wish a child to be, be that to the child.' And I would impress
upon the mind of the mother, the nurse, or other teacher, the
importance of so training each desire or propensity as to bring
it as early as possible into habitual obedience to the dictates of
the religious and moral sentiments, — those sentiments being
guided by the enlightened intellect of such mother, nurse, or
teacher. These teachers should be aware of the facf that the
mind of a child is continually acquiring habits of thought, as its
limbs are habits of action, whether by the spontaneous and un-
guided efforts of its own mind and body, or by following the
training of those having the care of it. They should be con-
tinually improving themselves in the art of so guiding the infant
dispositions, and the exercises and actions of their charge as to

CARE OF THE HABITS. — IMPORTANCE OF HABIT. 175

form the disposition as early as possible; and this course of
training would effectually preserve the child from every approach
to the formation of any other habits than those inculcated by the
teacher." — (Rem rks, &c, pp. 11, 12.)

Next to the Beliefs established by early habit, come the pro-
pensities. Under this head, nothing more can be necessary
than to relate an anecdote which teaches much more eloquently
than any thing I can say out of my own convictions. In North
America, a tribe of Indians attacked a white settlement, and
murdered the few inhabitants. A woman of the tribe, however,
carried away a very young infant, and reared it as her own.
The child grew up with the Indian children, different in com-
plexion, but like them in every thing else. To scalp the greatest
possible number of enemies was, in his view, the most glorious
and happy thing in the world. While he was still a youth, he
was seen by some wThite traders, and by them conducted back
to civilized life. He showed great relish of his new way of
life, and, especially, a strong desire of knowledge, and a sense
of reverence which took the direction of religion ; so that he
desired to become a clergyman. He went through his college
course with credit, and was ordained. He fulfilled his function
well, and appeared happy and satisfied. After a few years, he
went to serve a settlement somewhere near the seat of war,
which was then going on between Great Britain and the United
States ; and before long, there was fighting not far off. I am
not sure whether he was aware that there were Indians in the
field, (the British having some tribes of Indians for allies,) but
he went forth to see how matters were going; — went forth in
his usual dress, — biack coat, and neat white shirt and neck-
cloth. When he returned, he was met by a gentleman of his
acquaintance, who was immediately struck by an extraordinary
change in the expression of his face ; — by the fire in his eye,
and the flush on his cheek; — and also by his unusually shy and
hurried manner. After asking news of the battle, the gentle-
man observed, "but you are wounded. — Not wounded! —
why, there is blood upon the bosom of your shirt." The

176

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

young man crossed his hands firmly, though hurriedly upon his
breast ; and his friend, supposing that he wished to conceal a
wound which ought to be looked to, pulled open his shirt and
saw — what made the young man let his hands fall in despair.
From between his shirt and his breast, the gentleman took out —
a bloody scalp. "I could not help it," said this poor victim
of early habit, in an agonized voice. He turned, and ran too
swiftly to be overtaken ; betook himself to the Indians, and
never more appeared among the whites. No one supposes
that there was any hypocrisy in this man while he was a clergy-
man. No one doubts that he would have lived a contented life
of piety, benevolence and study, if he had never come within
sight or sound of war. When he did so, up rose his early
habitual combative and destructive propensities, overthrowing
in an instant all later formed convictions and regenerated feel-
ings. By the extent of victory here, we may form some idea
of the force of early Habit, or be duly warned by the question
whether we can form any idea of it.

The first habit to be formed is, — as is self-evident, — that of
obedience ; for this is a necessary preliminary to the formation
of all other habits. If mothers would but believe it, there is
nothing in the world easier than to form a habit of implicit obe-
dience in any child. Every child, — dependant and imitative,
— is obedient as a matter of course if nature is not early inter-
fered with, and put out of her way. Every one must see that
good sense on the part of the mother is absolutely necessary, —
to observe what the course of nature is, and to adapt her manage-
ment to it. For instance, — there is no way in which infants
are more frequently, or so early, taught disobedience as by
being teased for kisses. The mother does so love her infant's
kiss, — to see the little face put up when the loving desire is
spoken, — that she can never have enough of it. But her sense,
and her sympathy with her little one show her that it is not the
same thing with the child. Well as it loves caresses in due
measure, it can easily be fretted by too many of them ; and if
the mother persists in requiring too many while the infant is

CARE OF THE HABITS. IMPORTANCE OF HABIT. 177

eager after something else, she will first have to put up with a
hasty and reluctant kiss, and will next have to witness the strug-
gles of the child to avoid it altogether. If too young to slip
from her arms, he will hide his face : — if he can walk, he will
run away, and not come back when she calls. She has made
him disobedient by asking of him more than he is yet able to
give. If the training begins by pleasantly bidding him do what
it is easy and pleasant to him to do, he will do it, as a matter of
course. When it is to him a matter of course to do as he is
bid, he will prove capable of doing some things that he does
not like, — if desired in the usual cheerful and affectionate tone.
He will go to his tub in the cold morning, and take physic, and
be quiet when he wants to romp ; — all great efforts to him.
And he will get on, and become capable of greater and greater
efforts, if his faculties of opposition and pride be not roused
by any imprudence, and if his understanding be treated with
due respect by the appeals to his obedience being such only as
are moderate and reasonable.

He must be left as free as reason and convenience allow,
that his will may not be too often crossed, and his temper need-
lessly fretted. What he is not to have, but would certainly
wish for, must be put out of sight, if possible If there are
any places where he must not go, he should see it to be impos-
sible to get into them : — for instance, it is better that the fire
should be well guarded than the child forbidden to go upon
the rug ; — and in either case, his gay playthings should not
stand on the mantelpiece, tempting him to climb for them.. —
And so on, — through the round of his day. Let his little duties
and obligations be made easy to him by sense and sympathy
on the part of his parents ; and then let them see that the duty
is done, — the obligation fulfilled.

All this is easy enough ; and certainly, from all that I have
ever been able to observe, I am convinced that success, — per-
fect success in forming a habit of obedience is always possible.
Where a whole household acts in the same good spirit towards
the little creature who has to be trained, — where no one spoils

178

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

him and no one teases him, — he will obey the bidding of the
voice of gentle authority in all he does, as simply as he obeys
the bidding of Nature when he eats and sleeps.

So much for this preliminary habit, which is essential to the
formation of all others that the parents wish to guide and estab-
lish. I will now speak briefly of the Personal and Family
Habits, which are the manifestation of those conditions of mind
of which I have treated in my preceding chapters.

CHAPTER XXIV.

CARE OF THE HABITS. PERSONAL HABITS.

It requires some little consideration to feel sufficiently that
it is as necessary to be explicit" and earnest about the personal
habits of children as about their principles, temper, and intel-
lectual state. Our personal habits have become so completely
a second nature to us, that it requires some effort to be aware
how far otherwise it is with the young, — how they have every-
thing to learn ; and what a serious thing it is to everybody at
some time of his life to learn to wash his own face and button
his own jacket. The conviction comes across one very power-
fully in great houses, where little lords and ladies are seen to
need teaching in the commonest particulars of manners and
habits, as much as any young creatures about a cottage door.
Every one knows this as a matter of fact ; but still there is
something odd in seeing children in velvet tunics and lace
frocks, and silk stockings and satin shoes, holding up their
little noses, — or not holding them up — to the maternal pocket-
handkerchief ; or dropping fruit-stones and raisin-stalks into
papa's coat-collar, by climbing up behind his chair. To see
this natural rudeness in those to whom consummate elegance
is hereafter to appear no less natural, makes one thoughtful for

CARE OF THE HABITS. PERSONAL HABITS. 179

the sake of such as are to remain comparatively rude through
life ; and also because it reminds one that there is nothing in
regard to all personal habits, that children have not to learn.

It is so very serious a matter to them, — the attainment of
good personal habits, — that they ought to be aided to the ut-
most by parental consideration. This consideration is shown
first in the actual help given to the child by its mother's hands ;
and afterwards by making all the arrangements of the house-
hold as favourable as possible to good habits in each indivi-
dual.

The tender mother makes the times of washing and dressing
gay and pleasant to her little infant by the play and caresses
which she loves to lavish even more than the child delights to
receive. She can hardly overvalue the influence of these sea-
sons on the child's future personal habits. Hurry, rough hand-
ling, silence, or fretfulness may make the child hate the idea of
washing and dressing, for long years afterwards ; while the
associations of a season of play and lovingness may help on
the little creature a long way in the great work of taking care
of its own person. When the time comes, — the proud time, —
when it may stand by itself to wash, the pride and novelty
help it on ; and it is rather offended if help interferes, to pre-
vent its being exposed too long to the cold. All this is very
well ; but there comes a time afterwards when the irksomeness
of washing and dressing, and cleaning teeth, and brushing
hair, becomes a positive affliction to some children, such as no
parents that I have known seem to have any idea of. We grown
people can scarcely remember the time when these operations
were not to us so purely mechanical as that our minds are enter-
tained by ideas all the time, as much as if we were about any
other business. But children are not so dexterous, in the first
place : in the next, all labour of which they know the extent
is very oppressive to them: and again, any incessant repetition
of what they in any degree dislike is really afflictive to them.
We must remember these things, or wTe shall not understand
the feebleness of will which makes a boy neglect some part of

180

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

his morning washing, and a girl the due hair-brushing in the
evening, though both are aware that they suffer more in con-
science as it is, than they could from the trouble, if they could
rouse themselves to do the business properly. I have known
one child sick of life because she must, in any circumstances,
clean her teeth every day ; — every day for perhaps seventy
years. I have known of a little boy in white frocks who sat
mournfully alone, one autumn day, laying the gay fallen vine-
leaves in a circle, and thinking how tired he was of life, — how
dreadfully long it was, and full of care. Its machinery over-
powered him. I knew a girl, old enough to be reproached for
the badness of her handwriting, — (and she was injudiciously
reproached, without being helped to mend it) — who suffered
intensely from this, and even more from another grief ; — she
had hair which required a good deal of care, and she was too
indolent lo keep it properly. These were the two miseries of
her life ; and they did make her life miserable. She did not
think she could mend her handwriting; but she knew that she
might have beautiful hair by brushing it for ten minutes longer
every night : yet she could not do it. At last, she prayed fer-
vently for the removal of these two griefs, — though she knew
the fable of the Wagoner and Hercules. Now, — in cases
like these, help is wanted. Remonstrance, disgrace, will not
do, in many cases where a little sympathy and management
will. Cannot these times be made cheerful, and the habit of
painful irresolution broken, by putting the sinner into the com-
pany of some older member of the family, or by employing
the thoughts in some pleasant way while the mechanical pro-
cess is going on ? — I mean only while the difficulty lasts. When
habits of personal cleanliness have become fixed and mechani-
cal, it is most desirable (where it can by any means be man-
aged) for each child to be alone, — not only for the sake of
decency, but for the benefit of the solitude and silence, morn-
ing and night, which are morally advantageous for everybody
old enough to meditate.

I fear it is still necessary to teach and preach that nobody

CARE OF THE HABITS. — PERSONAL HABITS.

181

has a right to health who does not wash all over every day. This
is done with infants ; and the practice should never be discon-
tinued. Ever} child of a family should look upon this daily
complete washing in cold water as a thing as completely of
course as getting its breakfast. There was a time, within my
remembrance, when even respectable people thought it enough
to wash their feet once a week ; and their whole bodies when
they went to the coast for sea-bathing in August. In regard to
popular knowledge of the Laws of Health, our world has got
on: and, after the expositions, widely published, of those who
enable us to understand the Laws of Health, we may hope that
washing from head to foot is so regular an affair with all decent
people as to leave no doubt or irresolution in children's minds
about how much they shall wash, any day of the year. — As for
the care of the teeth, — parents ought to know that, in the
opinion of dentists, all decay of the teeth proceeds from the
bone of which the teeth are composed not being kept purely
clean and bright. This happens oftenest when teeth overlap,
or growr so that every part cannot be reached. Much of this
may be remedied, if not all of it, by early application to a
dentist. But parents to whom this precaution is impossible
can do much to save their children from future misery from
toothache, and indigestion through loss of teeth, by seeing that
the tooth-scrubbing is properly performed. This is more im-
portant than the polishing of knives and brass knockers. As
for the brushing of a girl's long hair, it really is a very irksome
business till it becomes mechanical: and a mother may con-
sider a little effort at amusement well bestow7ed till the habit of
doing it properly is securely formed, and the mind is rich enough
to entertain itself the while.

Readers begin to yawn or skip when they meet, in any book,
with praises of early rising. Yet how can I pass over this
particular of personal habits, when I think it of eminent im-
portance ? I believe it is rare to see such early rising as I
happen to think desirable. I believe it is rare to see families
fairly at their daily work by eight o'clock, — after having had

182

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

out-door exercise and breakfast ; and this, every morning in
the year. The variety of objects presented for the observation
and enjoyment of children (and of everybody else) in the early
morning hours, far surpasses that which can be seen at any
other time of day. Even town-bred children can see more
pure sky, and quieter streets, and the country seems to have
come nearer. And in the country, there are more animals
abroad, — more squirrels, more field mice, more birds, than at
noon or in the evening. The rooks fly higher in the dawn than
at any other time ; the magpies are bolder and droller ; the
singing-birds in the thickets beyond measure more gleeful ; and
one need not tell that this is the hour for the lark. All except
very young children can keep themselves warm in the mid-
winter mornings, and will enjoy the delight of being out under
the stars, and watching the last fragment of the moon, hanging
over the eastern horizon, clear and bright in the breaking dawn.
When these children come in, warm, rosy, and hungry, at seven
o'clock, or half-past, and sit down to their breakfast, they seem
hardly of the same order of creatures with such as come saun-
tering down from their chambers, when their parents have half
done their meal ; — sauntering because they are tired with dress-
ing, or have had bad dreams, and have not recovered their
spirits. And what a difference it makes in the houses of rich
and poor whether the breakfast things are standing about till
nearly ten o'clock, or whether the family have by that time
been at work for nearly two of the brightest, and freshest, and
quietest, hours of the day!

In every industrious household there should be a bell. This
is an admonition which tries no tempers, and gives no personal
offence. If the father himself rings the family up in the morn-
ings, it is a fine thing for every body. If he cannot, — if he is
too weary with his day's work for early rising, or if the mother
is disturbed with her baby in the night,— if neither parent can
be early in the morning, then let it not be insisted on that the
children shall be so. It is a less evil that they should forego
all the advantages of early rising than that any contest on the

CARE OF THE HABITS. PERSONAL HABITS.

183

subject should take place between them and their parents. I
have seen cases where the parents could not, or did not, appear
till nine o'clock or later, but yet made it a point of conscience
with the children to be early ; — with the most disastrous effect.
The children were conscientious, and they did try. When
they now and then succeeded, they were satisfied and triumph-
ant, and thought they should never fail again. But the indo-
lence of the growing season of life was upon them : and there
was the languor of waiting for breakfast. In the summer
mornings, they were chilly and languid over their books ; and
in the winter, the fire made them sleepy. They grew later and
later; they were rebuked, remonstrated with, — even warned
against following the example of their parents ; but they sank
deeper into indolence. At last, the suffering of conscience
became so great that it was thrown off by a most audacious
effort. I happened to be a witness to the incident ; and I have
never lost the impression of it. The two girls were only half-
dressed at half-past eight. They heard their mother's door open,
and looked at each other. She came (herself only half-dressed)
to say that she had been defied long enough, and she would
be obeyed. She slapped them heartily. As she shut the door,
the younger sister, all horror and dismay, stole a look at the
elder. The elder laughed ; and the younger was evidently
delighted to join. I saw, on the instant, that it was all over
with the mother's authority. The spirit of defiance had risen,
and burst the bonds of conscience. Late rising, — the very
latest, — curse as it is, — is better than this. What a struggle is
saved in such cases — what a cost of energy, and health, and
conscience, by a complete establishment of good habits,
through the example of the parents! If the father be but
happy enough to be able to take out his little troop into the
fields, or merely for a stretch along the high road, in the fresh-
ness of the morning, what a gain there is on every hand ! He
has the best of their affections, if he can make himself their
companion at this most cheery hour of the day ; and they will
owe to him a habit which not only enhances the enjoyment of

184 HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

life, but positively lengthens its duration. Then, after their
walk of a mile or two, they find mother and breakfast awaiting
them at home, — the house in order and already aired ; and
everything ready for business when the morning meal is done.
They are in the heart of their work, whatever it be, when their
neighbours are opening their chamber doors. In London, I
am aware, one meets with the plea, in every case, that early
rising is impossible, on account of the lateness of the hours of
every body else. I only know that when I lived in lodgings
in London, I used to boil my coffee on the table at seven
o'clock, — giving no trouble to servants, — and that I used to
think it pleasant to have my pen in hand at half-past seven, —
the windows open to the fresh-watered streets, and shaded with
summer blinds, and the flower-girls stationing themselves below
— their gay baskets of roses still wet with dew. I think Lon-
don streets pleasanter in the dawn than at any other time. In
country towns, I know that families can and do keep early
hours, without any real difficulty : and in the country, every
body can do as he pleases. I need not say that growing chil-
dren must have their breakfast before they feel any exhaustion
for want of it. I do not understand the old-fashioned method
of early rising ; — working hard for three or four hours before
eating anything at all. If adults can bear this, it is certain
that children cannot. I may mention here that a prime means
of health for persons of all ages is to drink abundance of cold
water on rising, and during the vigorous exercise of the early
morning. This morning regimen, if universally adopted,
would save the doctors of our island half their work.

There is no part of the personal habits of children more
important than that which relates to their eating. We must re-
member how vivid the pleasures of the senses are to children,
— how strong their desire of every kind of gratification, — and
how small their store, as yet, of those intellectual and moral
resources which make grown people careless of the pleasures
of sense. If we look back to our own childhood, and remem-
ber our intense pleasure in looking at brilliant colours, and at

CARE OF THE HABITS. — PERSONAL HABITS.

185

hearing sweet sounds, unconnected with words and ideas, —
such as the chords of an Eolian harp, — and the thrill of pleasure
we had at the sight of a favourite dish upon the table, we shall
be aware that, however ridiculous such emotions appear to us
now, they are realities which must be taken into account in
dealing with children. — The object is so to feed children as to
give them the greatest amount of relish which consists with
their health of body and mind. If their appetites are not con-
sidered enough, they will suffer in body ; if too much, they
will suffer infinitely more in mind. I have seen both extremes;
and I must say, I think the consequences so important as to
deserve more consideration than the subject usually meets with.

In one large family which I had for some time the opportu-
nity of observing, there was a pretty strict discipline kept up
throughout, with excellent effect on the whole ; but in some
respects it was carried too far. Some of the children were
delicate, particularly in stomach ; and the intention of the
parents was that this should be got over, as better for the chil-
dren than yielding to it. Three or four of the children throve
well on the basin of bread and milk, which was the breakfast
of them all : but there was one little girl who never could digest
milk well ; and the suffering of that child was evident enough.
She did not particularly dislike milk ; and she never asked for
any thing else. That would have been, in her eyes, a piece of
shocking audacity. She had a great reverence for rules ; and
she seemed never to dream of any rule being set aside for her
sake, however hardly it might bear upon her. So she went on
for years having the feeling of a heavy lump in her throat for
the whole of every morning, — sometimes choking with it, and
sometimes stealing out into the yard to vomit ; and, worse
than the lump in the throat, she had depression of spirits for
the first half of every day, which much injured the action of
her mind at her lessons, and was too much for her temper. She
and her friends were astonished at the difference in her when
she went, at, 1 think, twelve years old, to stay for a month in
a house where she had tea-breakfasts. She did, to be sure,

16*

186

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

cast very greedy looks at her cup of tea when it was coming ;
and she did make rather a voracious breakfast ; but this was
wearing off before the end of the month. She went home to
her milk breakfasts, her lump in the throat, and her morning
depression of spirits and irritability. But at last the time came
when she was tall enough to have tea with the older ones ; and
in a little while, she showed nosigns of greediness, and thought
no more about her breakfast than any body else.

I remember another case, where a similar mistake appeared
more broadly still in its bad effects. In a family where it was
the custom to have a great rice-pudding every Saturday, and
sometimes also on the other baking-day, — Wednesday, — there
was a little fellow who hated rice. This was inconvenient.
His mother neither liked to see him go without half his dinner,
nor to provide a dish for him ; for the child was disposed to be
rather greedy, and troublesome with fancies about his eating.
But in the case of the rice, the disgust was real, and so strong
that it would have been better to let it alone. His mother,
however, saw that it would be a benefit to him if he could get
over it : and she took advantage of a strong desire he had for
a book, to help him over his difficulty. The little fellow saw
at a shop-w7indow a copy of the Seven Champions of Christen-
dom, with a gay picture of the dragon and St. George : and
his longing for this little book was of that raging sort which I
suppose only children ever feel. He was to have this book if
he would eat rice-pudding. He eagerly promised ; feeling at
the moment, I dare say, when there was no rice within sight, as
if he could live upon it all his days, to get what he wanted.
When Saturday came, I watched him. I saw how his gorge
rose at the sight of the pudding ; but he fixed his eyes upon
the opposite wall, gulped down large spoonfuls, wiped his
mouth with disgust, and sighed when he had done, demanded
his fee, ran for the book, and alas ! had finished it, and got
almost tired of it, before bed-time. The worst of it was, — he
never again tasted rice. Here was the moral injury. He was
perfectly aware that his bargain was to eat rice-pudding when-

CARE OF THE HABITS. PERSONAL HABITS.

187

ever it was upon table ; and he meant to do it. But it required
more fortitude than he could command when the desire for the
book was gratified and gone ; and his honour and conscience
were hurt. Another bad consequence of this mistake about
two or three of his dislikes was that he thought too much about
eating and drinking ; was dainty in picking his meat, and
selfish about asking for the last bit, or the last but one, of any
thing good. Of course, I do not speak in censure when I give
such anecdotes. I blame nobody where nobody meant any
harm. On the one side there was a mistake ; and it was fol-
lowed by its inevitable consequences on the other.

In such a case, where there is a large family, with a plain
common table, I should think the best way is for a child in
ordinary health to take his chance. If there is enough of meat,
potatoes and bread to make a meal of, he may very well go
without pudding, and should, on no account, have one pro-
vided expressly for himself : but he should be allowed to refuse
it without remark. Where the mother can, without expense
and too much inconvenience, consider the likings and dislikes
of her children in a silent way, her kindness will induce her to
do it ; but it must be in a quiet way, or she will lead them to
think too much about the thing, and to suppose that she thinks
it an important matter.

This affair of the table is one worth a good deal of attention,
as it regards the temper and manners of the household, and the
personal habits of each. There is no reason why the father's
likings as to food should not be seen to be cared for. If he
is a selfish eater, he will ensure that the matter is duly attended
to. If he is above such care tor himself, — if it is clear that
his pleasure at his meals is in having his family about him, —
that is a case in which the mother need not conceal her desire
to provide what is liked best. The father, who never asks or
thinks about what is for dinner, is the most likely to be the
one to find before him what he particularly relishes : a dish
cooked, perhaps, by his wife's or his little daughter's hands.
And, again, if the little daughters see that their mother never

188

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

ihinks about her own likings, perhaps they will put in a word
on market-day, or at such limes, to remind her that somebody
cares for her tastes. Then, again, in middle-class families,
where the servants dine after the family, they should always
be openly considered. After the pudding has been helped
round once, and some quick eaters are ready for a second
plateful, in must be an understood thing that enough is to be
left for the servants. — On the ground of the danger of caus-
ing too much thought about eating and drinking, it is desirable
that, where the family take their meals together, all should
fare alike. If there is any thing at table which the younger
children ought not to have, it is better that they should, if pos-
sible, dine by themselves. This is the plan in great houses,
where the little ones dine at one o'clock, eating freely and
without controversy of what is on the table, because there is
nothing there that can hurt them. If the family dine together,
and there are two or more dishes of meat on the table at the
same time, all must learn the good manners of dividing their
choice, so that the father may not have to send a helping of
goose to everybody, while none is left for himself, but that the
mother's boiled mutton may have left half the goose for the
choice of the parents. All this is clear enough : but, if a
present arrives of any thing nice, — oysters, or salmon, or
oranges, or such good things as relations and friends often
send to each other, it seems best for all the household to enjoy
the treat together, who are old enough to relish it.

It can scarcely be necessary to mention that the earliest time
is the best for training children to proper behaviour at table,
as everywhere else. Every one of them has to be trained ;
for how are the little things to know, unless they are taught,
that they are not to put their fingers in their plates, or to drain
their mugs, or to make shapes with their potato, or to crumble
their bread, or to kick their chairs, or to run away to the win-
dow before dinner is done ? They will require but little teach-
ing, if they see everybody about them sitting and eating pro-
perly ; but it is hard upon children when they have been

CARE OF THE HABITS. — PERSONAL HABITS.

189

allowed to take liberties, and be rude at the nursery dinner, and
then have everything to learn, under painful constraint, as they
are growing up.

I have been sometimes struck with the conviction that the
bad manners I have seen at the school-room table arise from a
misconception as to what dinner is. In one house, you see
the busy father hurrying from his work to the table, hardly
stopping to wash his hands, turning over to his wife the task of
helping the children, or even pushing round the dish for them
to help themselves, — throwing his dinner down his throat, and
after it his solitary pint of porter ; snatching his hat, and off
again to business, almost without saying " good bye " to any
one. When he is gone, the others think they have liberty to
do as they please ; and a pretty scene of confusion there is, —
one child scraping a dish, another kneeling on a chair to reach
over for something, a third at the window: and the mother,
with baby on her arm, coming at last to carry off the dishes,
saying that she is sure dinner has been about quite long
enough, while some of the children are perhaps really wanting
more. — Again : one sees in a rich gentleman's family, ill-
managed, a great mistake as to dinner. The bell is rung at
the nominal dinner-hour, — or probably a good deal after it :
for servants can hardly be punctual under such management.
The soup is on the table, and one or two of the family are in
their seats, waiting for the rest. One young lady has her
fancy-work in her hand ; another has the newspaper. Papa
comes in for luncheon. He will have a plate of soup. The
reader jumps up to help him; but the soup is cold. As no-
body seems to wish for any cold soup, it is sent away ; but
turned back at the door by a hungry boy, who has only just
learned that dinner is ready, and is ravenous for the first thing
he can get to eat. While the joint is helped, one drops in
from the stable, — another from the music-lesson ; a third from
botanising in the wood ; and the first comers run away to look
for something in the library, or to have a turn on the gravel
walk, saying that they do not care for pudding, and will come

190

HOUSE1IOLD EDUCATION.

back for cheese. Altogether, it is an hour and a half before
the cloth is removed, and the weary governess can get her
charge in order for the Italian master, — if indeed he be not
come and gone in the interval. This is an extreme, but not
an impossible case : and in such a case, the plea we shall hear
is that it is a waste of time for a whole family to sit doing no-
thing but eating their dinners in the middle of the day : and
that formality makes eating of too much importance. Such
is the plea ; and here lies the mistake. The object of dinner
is not only eating, but sociable rest. The dinner hour is a sea-
sonable pause amidst the hurry of the busy day; and the
harder people have to work, the completer should be the pause
of the dinner hour. The arrangement is very important to health ;
for the largest meal of the day is best digested when it is eaten
with regularity, at leisure, and in a cheerful mood of mind ;
and when a space of cheerful leisure is left after it. And
more important still is the arrangement to the manners and
tempers and dispositions of the family. It is a great thing that
every member of a household should be habituated to meet
the rest in the middle of the day, neatly dressed and refreshed ;
— the boys' coats brushed, and the girls' frocks changed or set
straight ; the hair smoothed, and face and hands just washed.
It is a great thing that they should take their chief nourish-
ment of the day in the midst of the most cheerful conversation,
and at a time so set apart as that nobody is hankering after
doing any thing else. When we consider too that after dinner
is the only time between Sunday and Sunday that the working
father has for play with his infants, — who are in their beds, or
too sleepy for fun, when he comes home in the evening, — we
shall own that there is no waste of time in the dinner hour,
even if nothing whatever is done but eating and talking. In
fact, it is this time which, from its importance, ought to be
saved from all encroachment. The washed faces, and the
cloth on the table, and the hot dinner should all be in readi-
ness when the father appears. Not a minute of his precious
hour should be lost or spoiled by any one's unpunctuality, or

CARE OF THE HABITS. PERSONAL HABITS.

191

anybody's ill-manners. All should go smoothly at his table
by every one's gentleness and cheerfulness and good-breeding.
When the meal is finished, all the clearing away should be
quickly and quietly done, that he may have yet a clear half-
hour for rest, or for play with the little ones. Where this hour
is managed as it ought to be, — (and nothing is easier under the
care of a sensible mother,) the busy father goes forth to his
work again, with his mind even more refreshed by his hour of
cheerful rest, than his body is strengthened by food.

On the remaining topic of Personal Habits, — Modesty, —
Decency, — it cannot be necessary to say much. The points of
mistake which strike me the most are two: — I think that in
almost every part of the world, people herd too much and too
continually together : — and I think that few people are aware
how early it is right to respect the modesty of an infant.

As to the first point ; — it is one of the heaviest misfortunes
of our country, — I speak advisedly, — that among whole classes
of our people, poverty or want of space from other causes,
compels them to herd together in crowds, night and day. No
wTords are needed to show how little hope of health there can
be when people live in this way ; and even less hope of good
morals. Among classes more favoured than these, it appears
that there is little thought of making the provision that might
easily be made for more privacy than people are yet accustomed
to. I fear it is the wTish that is wanting: for " where there's a
will there's a way ;" and I have been in many houses, both
at home and abroad, where the requisite privacy might have
been had, if any wish for it had existed. In the factory villages
in the United States, I was painfully struck by this. I saw good
and pretty houses built from the savings of the factory girls, —
with their shady green blinds, and their charming piazzas with-
out ; and places within for book-shelves, piano and pictures
and work-tables ; but not a corner of any house was there
where any young woman of the household could sit by herself
for ten minutes in a day, or say her prayers, or wash. The
beds were ranged in dormitories ; or four or six in a room : and

192

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

there were not even washing-closets. Here, there was no
excuse of inability ; and at home I too often see the same thing,
where there is no sufficient excuse of inability.

Where each child cannot possibly have a room, or the use
of a dressing-closet to itself, arrangements may easily be made,
by having folding screens, to secure absolute privacy to every
member of a household, for purposes of the mind, as well as
the body. When I see how indispensable it is to the anxious
and hard-worked governess to have a room to herself, and how
earnestly she (very properly) insists upon it, I am always sorry
when I remember how many have to go without this comfort, —
which should be considered a necessity of life. When I think
of the school-boy, with his burden of school cares upon him,
and the young girl, thoughtful, anxious and irritable, as most
people are, at times, in entering upon the realities of life ; and
of the wearied servant maid, and of the child in the first fervours
of his self-kindling piety, I pity them if they have no place which
they can call their own, for ever so short a time in the day,
where they can be free from the consciousness of eyes being
upon them. The thing may be done. Mrs. Taylor of Ongar,
the wife of a dissenting minister, and mother of a large family,
who from an early age worked for their bread, did contrive,
by giving her mind to it, to manage separate sleeping-places
for a wonderful number of her children ; and, where this could
not possibly be accomplished for all, she so arranged closets
and hours as that every one could have his or her season of
retirement, secure from disturbance.

As for the case of the infant, to which I alluded above, — I
believe it to be this. The natural modesty of every human
being may be left to take care of itself; if only we are careful
that it is really left entirely free. It is the simplest matter in the
world for the mother to give this modesty its earliest direction
during the first weeks, months, and year or two of life. After
that, it will not fail, if only it be duly respected. That this
respect should begin very early is desirable, not because the
innocent little creature has then any consciousness which can

CARE OF THE HABITS. FAMILY HABITS.

193

be injured by anything it sees or is allowed to do ; but because
as it grows up, it should be unable ever to remember the time
when everything was not arranged with the same modesty and
decorum as at a later period. Again, in order to the preserva-
tion of true modesty, the smallest possible amount of thought
should be bestowed upon it. All transactions, personal and
domestic, should go on with the smoothness of perfect regu-
larity, propriety, and consequent freedom of mind and ease of
manners. And it conduces much to this that there should never
have been a time when the child was conscious of any particular
change in its management. It should never have seen much
of any body's personal cares ; and the more gradually it slides
into the care of its own person, with its accompanying privacy,
the better is the chance that it will not dwell on such matters
at all, but have its mind free for other subjects, wearing its
modesty as unconsciously as it carries the expression of the
eye, or utters the tones of its voice.

CHAPTER XXV.

CARE OF THE HABITS. — FAMILY HABITS.

It is difficult to keep a distinction between personal and
family habits. In our last chapter, on Personal Habits, we
got to the family dinner table ; and here, in speaking of Family
Habits, we shall doubtless fall in with the characteristics of
individuals.

First ; as to occupations. Unless I knew for what class of
readers I was writing this, it is difficult to assume what their
occupations may be. In one class, the father may be busy in
his office ; and the mother in ordering a large household, taking
care of the poor in her neighbourhood, and in study or keeping
up her accomplishments ; while the boys are with their tutor,

194

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

and the girls with their governess, and the infants in the
nursery. In another, the mother may be instructing her girls,
while busy at her needle ; and the boys may be at a day-school,
and the father in his warehouse or shop. And again, this may
be read by parents who cannot spare their children from home,
because they keep no servants, and who charge themselves
with teaching their young people, in such hours as can be
spared from the actual business of living. One thing, however,
is common to all these ; and it is enough to proceed upon.
All these are occupied. They have all business to do which
ought to engage their faculties, regularly and diligently; so
that the great principles and rules of family morals cannot fail
to apply.

The first great point concerns them all equally : — Economy
of Time. Nobody yet ever had too much time ; and the rich
need all they can save of it as much as the poorest. And the
methods by which time is to be made the most of are univer-
sally the same. This seems to be everywhere felt, except
among the ignorant. The most remarkable care, as to punc-
tuality, is actually found, in our country, among the highest
classes. It has been said that "punctuality is the politeness of
the great :" and so it is. It shows their consideration for other
people's time and convenience : but there is more in it than
that. The Queen, who is extraordinarily punctual, and states-
men, and landed-proprietors, and all who bear a burden of very
important duty, are more sensible than those who have less
responsibility of the mischief of wasting minutes which are all
wanted for business ; and yet more, of the waste of energy and
freedom of thought, and of composure and serenity which are
caused by failures in punctuality. For my own part, I acknow-
ledge that not only is any compulsory loss of time the trial, of
all little trials, that I most dislike, but that nothing whatever so
chafes my temper as failure in punctuality in those with whom
I have transactions. And to me, one of the charms of inter-
course with enlightened and high-bred people is their reliable-
ness in regard to all engagements, and their exact economy of

CARE OF THE HABITS. — FAMILY HABITS.

195

time. To go from a disorderly household where no one seems
to have any time, and where one has to try hard all day long
to keep one's temper, to a great man's house, where half a
hundred people move about their business as if they were one ;
where all is quiet and freedom and leisure, as if the business of
life went on of itself, leaving minds at liberty for other work,
is one of the most striking contrasts I have met with in society.
And I have seen the same order and punctuality prevail, with
much the same effect, in very humble households, where, in-
stead of a score or two of servants, there were a few well-
trained children to do the work. It is a thing which does not
depend on wealth, but on intelligence. There is, (here and
there, but not often) a great house to be seen where you cannot
get anything you want till you have rung half-a-dozen times,
and waited half an hour ; where you are pretty sure to leave
some of your luggage behind you, or be too late for the train,
without any fault of your own ; and where the meals, notwith-
standing all the good cookery, are comfortless, from the rest-
lessness and uncertainty of family and guests, and the natural
discouragement of the servants. And there are houses of four
rooms, where all goes smoothly from the politeness which arises
from intelligence and affectionate consideration. When a new
Administration came into office, some years ago, the Ministers
agreed that not one of them should ever be waited for, on any
occasion of meeting. At the first Cabinet dinner, the party
went to table as the clock finished striking, though the Prime
Minister had not arrived. The Prime Minister was only half a
minute late ; but he apologized, as for an offence against good
manners. What would be thought of this in homes where the
young people come dropping down to breakfast when their
parents have half done, or where father or mother keeps the
children fretting and worrying because they are waiting for
breakfast when they ought to be about their morning business!

It may be said that the fretting and worrying are the greater
offence of the two : and this is very true. So much the worse
for the unpunctuality which causes a greater sin than itself.

196

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

Why be subject to either? If a young person, no longer man-
ageable as a child, continues, after all reasonable methods have
been tried, to annoy his family by a habit of wasting his own
time and theirs, there is no use in losing temper about it.
Scolding and fretfulness will not bring him round, if other
methods have failed. He must be borne wTith (though by no
means indulged) and pitied as the slave of a bad habit. But
how much better to avoid any such necessity! And it might
always be avoided.

The way in which people usually fall into unpunctual habits
is, I think, from interest in what they are about, whether it be
dreaming in bed, or enjoying a walk, or translating a difficult
passage, or finishing a button-hole in a shirt, or writing a post-
script to a letter. In households where punctuality is really a
principle, it should be a truth ever before all eyes that whatever
each individual is about is of less importance than respect to
the whole family. In a school, when the bell rings, one girl
leaves off in the middle of a bar of music, another at the middle
line of a repetition, and a third when she is within two figures
of the end of her sum. The time and temper of mistress and
companions must be respected first, and these things finished
afterwards. And so it is in a well ordered household. The
parents sacrifice their immediate interest in what they are about;
and so must the children. And so they will, and with ease,
when the thing is made an invariable habit, from the earliest
time they can remember.

It is this punctuality, this undeviating regularity which is the
greatest advantage that school has over home education, in re-
gard to study. In a large family, where there is much business
of living and few servants, it really is very difficult to secure
quiet and regularity for the children's lessons. It seems at any
one moment, of less importance that the sum should be done,
and the verb conjugated, just for that once, than that the boy
should run an errand, or the girl hold the baby. Now this will
never do: and the small progress in learning usually made by
the home-taught shows that it does not answer. The considera-

CARE OF THE HABITS. — FAMILY HABITS.

197

tion is not of the particular sum, or practice in saying the verb,
but of the habit of the children's minds. It is of consequence
in itself that sums should be done and verbs learned in their
proper season, because they cannot be so easily mastered after-
wards; and there is plenty to be done afterwards; but much
more important is it that the children should acquire that punc-
tuality of faculties which grows out of punctuality of habits • and
this can never be when there is any uncertainty or insecurity
about the inviolability of their lesson-time. I know how diffi-
cult it is to manage this point, and how very hard it is for the
mother to resist each day's temptation, if she has not fortified
herself by system and arrangement, and by keeping constantly
before her mind that nothing that her children can do by beini*
called off from their books can be so important as what they
sacrifice at every interruption. If it is possible for her to find
any corner of the house where they may be undisturbed, and
any hour of the day when she will allow no person whatever to
call off her attention from them, she may do them something
like justice: but she never can, though the books and slates
may be about all the morning, if she admits any neighbour, or
allows any interruption whatever. If possible, she will fix
upon an hour when she may settle down with her plain-sewing,
which requires no attention ; and when her neighbours all know-
that they will not be admitted. One single hour, diligently em-
ployed, may effect a great deal. And it need not be all that
the children give to study, though it be all that she can spare.
They may learn at some other time in the day the lessons which
she is to hear during the hour: and in that case, she must see
that they are protected in their time of learning, as well as of
repeating their lessons. Whether they are in their own rooms,
or in the common sitting room, or she can spare any place for
a school room, she must see that they have their minds to them-
selves, to do their business properly. If the father relieves her
of the teaching, and hears the lessons at night, she will see more
reason than ever for doing all she can to facilitate their being
well learned.

17*

198

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

If the time for lessons be necessarily but one hour in the
day, let not the parents be uneasy, however much they might
wish that their children should have their six hours of study,
like those of richer people. Perhaps they can give both bo)s
and girls educational advantages which those of the rich have
not ; — advantages which offer themselves in the natural course
of humble life. I have witnessed a process of education for
boys in a middle-class home which could not well be instituted
in a great house, and among a multitude of servants, but which
was of extraordinary benefit to the lads who were made happy
by it. Their father gave into their charge some of the depart-
ments of the comforts of the house. One had charge of the
gas-pipes and lamps. He was responsible for their good con-
dition ; and he was paid the same sum per annum that super-
vision by a workman wTould have cost. Another had charge of
the locks and keys, the door-handles, sash-lines and window-
bolts, bells and bell-wires: and he was paid in the same man-
ner. Each had his workbench and tools in a convenient
place; and, if every part of his province was always in order,
so that there were no expensive repairs, he had some money
left over, — which was usually spent in buying materials for
mechanical handiworks. These lads were happier than poor
Louis XVI. of France, who wras so fond of making locks that
he had a complete locksmith's workshop fitted up in a retired
part of his palace : and delighted to spend there every hour
that he could command. He was obliged to conceal his pursuit,
both from the absurdity and the uselessness of it in his position ;
while these lads had at once the gratification of their faculties,
and the dignity of usefulness. There are many offices about
every house which may well be confided to boys, if they are
intelligent and trustworthy ; — that is, well educated up to the
point required ; and the filling of such offices faithfully is in
itself as good a process of education as need be wished.

There is no need to declare the same thing about girls; for
I suppose nobody questions it. I go further than most persons,
1 believe, however, in desiring thorough practice in domestic

CARE OF THE HABITS. — FAMILY HABITS.

109

occupations, from an early age, for girls. I do not see why
the natural desire and the natural faculty for housewifery which
I think I see in every girl I meet, should be baffled because
her parents are rich enough to have servants to do and to
superintend everything about the house. If there was a king
who could not help being a locksmith, I know of a countess who
could not help being a sempstress. She made piles of plain
linen, just for the pleasure of the work, and gave them away
to her friends. Now, it is a very serious thing to baffle natural
desires and abilities so strong as these, on account of mere
external fortunes. If a girl of any rank has the economic
faculties strong, it is hard upon her that they may not find their
natural exercise in a direction, — that of household care, — which
is appropriate to every woman, be she who she may ; and if
these faculties are less strong than they are usually found to be in
girls, there is the more reason that they should be well exer-
cised, as far as they will go.

I am sure that some, — perhaps most, — girls have a keener
relish of household drudgery than of almost any pleasure that
could be offered them. They positively like making beds, mak-
ing fires, laying the cloth and washing up crockery, baking bread,
preserving fruit, clear-starching and ironing. And why in the
world should they not do it ? Why should not the little lady
have her little ironing box, and undertake the ironing of the
pocket-handkerchiefs ? I used to do this ; and I am sure it
gave me a great deal of pleasure, and did me nothing but good.
— On washing and ironing days, in houses of the middle class,
where all the servants are wanted in the wash-house or laundry,
why should not the children do the service of the day? It will
be a treat to them to lay the breakfast cloth, and bring up the
butter from the cellar, and toast the bread ; and, when break-
fast is over, to put everything in its place again, and wash the
china, and rub and polish the trays. They may do the same
again at dinner ; and while the servants are at meals, they may
carry on the ironing in the laundry. And afterwards, there
comes that capital exercise of sense and patience and skill, —

200

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

the stocking-darning, which, done properly, is a much higher
exercise than many people suppose. And when visitors come,
why should not the girls have the chief pleasure which " com-
pany" gives to them, — the making the custard and the tarts,
dishing up the fruit, and bringing out the best table linen ?
And what little girl is there in a market town who does not
like going to market with her father or her mother, till she
can be trusted to go by herself? Does she not like seeing the
butcher's cleverness in cutting off what is wanted ; and trying
to guess the weight of joints by the look ; and admiring the
fresh butter, and the array of fowls, and the heaps of eggs, and
the piles of vegetables and fruit ? I believe it is no small treat
to a girl to jump up early on the market-day morning, and
reckon on the sight she is going to see. The anxiety may be
great when she begins to be the family purchaser : but it is a
proud office too ; and when the first shyness is over, there is
much variety and pleasantness in it.

By all means, as I have said, let the girls' economic facul-
ties take the household direction, if they point that way, what-
ever be their fortunes and expectations. It can never do any
woman harm to know, in the only perfect way, by experience,
how domestic affairs should be managed. But, when the thing
is done at all, let it be well done. Let the girl be really taught,
and not suffered to blunder her way through, in a manner
which could not be allowed in regard to anything taught as a
lesson. One reason wThy girls know so much less than they
should do, and so much less than they wish to do about house-
hold affairs, is that justice is not done them by proper teach-
ing. The daughters of the opulent are at school, and have no
opportunity of learning till they are too old to begin properly :
but the case of middle and lower class girls is hardly better.
When the mother is hurried, it is easier to do a thing herself
than to teach, or wait for, an inexperienced hand : but a girl'
will never learn, if her enterprise is taken out of her hand at
the critical moment. Nothing is more easily learned, or more
sure to be remembered than the household processes that come

CARE OF THE HABITS. — FAMILY HABITS. 201

under the hands of women : but then they must be first clearly
understood and carried through. Here, then, the mother must
have a little patience. She must bear to see a batch of bread
or pastry spoiled, or muslins ironed wrong side out, or a cus-
tard " broke," or a loin of mutton mistaken for the neck, a
few times over, and much awkwardness and slowness shown,
before her little daughters become trusty handmaids. But, if
she be a true mother, she will smile at this ; and the father
will not be put out if the pie is burned on one side, or the
bread baked too quick, if he is told that this is a first trial by
a new hand. He will say what he can that is encouraging, and
hope for a perfect pie or loaf next time.

I believe it is now generally agreed, among those who know
best, that the practice of sowing has been carried much too far
for health, even in houses where there is no poverty or press-
ure of any kind. No one can well be more fond of sewing
than I am ; and few, except professional sempstresses, have
done more of it ; and my testimony is that it is a most hurtful
occupation, except where great moderation is observed. I
think it is not so much the sitting and stooping posture as the
incessant monotonous action and position of the arms, that
causes such wear and tear. Whatever it may be, there is some-
thing in prolonged sewing which is remarkably exhausting to
the strength, and irritating beyond endurance to the nerves.
This is only where sewing is almost the only employment, or
is carried on for several hours together. When girls are not
so fond of sewing as I was in my youth, and use the needle
only as girls usually do, there is no cause for particular anxiety :
but the mother should carefully vary the occupations of a girl
disposed to be sedentary. If pleasant reading or conversation
can go on the while, it is well. The family meals, too, and
other interruptions, will break ofT the employment, probably,
before it has gone too far. But, if there is the slightest sign
of that nervous distress called " the fidgets," (which truly de-
serves the name of " distress") or any paleness of countenance,
lowness of spirits, or irritability of temper, there is reason to

202

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

suppose that the needle has been plied too far ; and, however
unwilling the girl may be to leave work which she is bent upon
finishing, it is clearly time that she was in the open air, or
playing with the baby, or about some stirring business in the
house. I have always had a strong persuasion that the greater
part of the sewing done in the world will ere long be done by
machinery. It appears much more easy than many things that
are done by machinery now ; and when it is considered how
many minute stitches go to the making of a garment, it seems
strange that some less laborious and slow method of making
joins and edges has not been invented before this. Surely it
will be done in the course of a few generations ; and a great
blessing the change will be to women, who must, by that time,
have gained admission to many occupations now7 kept from
them by men, through which they may earn a maintenance
more usefully and with less sacrifice of health than by the pre-
sent toils of the sempstress. The progress made in spinning,
weaving, and especially knitting by machinery, and in making
water-proof cloaks and other covering without the help of the
needle, seems to point with certainty to an approaching time
when the needle will be almost superseded. With this, and
the consequent saving of time, must come a greater abundance
of clothing, and an accompanying cheapness, which will be a
great blessing to a large class by whom good and sufficient
clothing cannot now be obtained. Meantime, our ways are
improved, by the turning over of some of the work to ma-
chinery. The sewing-schools to which young ladies were sent
in the last century, to sit six hours a day on hard benches, too
high for their feet to touch the ground, compelled to hold
themselves upright, and yet to pore over fine cambric and
linen, to do microscopic marking and stitching, are heard of
no more. In their day, they bent many spines, spoiled many
eyes, and plagued many a young creature with back-ache for
life ; so we may rejoice that they are gone, and must take care
that none of their mischief is done at home, while all really
useful good sewing can very easily be taught there.

CARE OF THE HABITS. — FAMILY HABITS.

203

One change which has taken place in our society, since the
peace, has struck me much. Since the continent was opened
to us, almost all who can afford to travel, more or less, have
been abroad. Struck with the advantages to themselves of
having their minds opened and enlarged by intercourse with
foreign nations, and by access to foreign literature, art, and
methods of education in some respects superior to our own,
they have naturally desired to give such advantages to their
children, while they were yet young enough to benefit fully by
them. Great numbers of children, and young people, yet
growing, have been carried abroad by their parents, and, of
course, have obtained more or less of the " advantages" for
which they went. But at what cost ? In my opinion, at a fatal
one. Much might be said of the danger to health and life of a
complete change of diet and habits at so early an age. A friend
of mine was telling me, and I was agreeing with her, that she
and I hardly know of a family of children who have travelled
abroad for any length of time that has not been fatally visited
wTith the dreadful bilious fever, which, when it spares life, too
often does some irreparable injury to the frame, — to brain, or
sense, or limbs. Bad as this is, it is not the worst. The
practice is against Nature ; and those who adopt it must bear
the retribution for offences against Nature's laws. Nature
ordains a kind of vegetative existence for children till the frame
is complete, and strengthened in its completeness. The utmost
regularity of habits (which by no means implies dulness of life)
produces, beyond all question, the most healthy frames, and
there cannot be a sadder mistake than to suppose that any
greater variety than the most ordinary life affords is necessary
to the quickening or entertainment of a child's faculties. Life,
with all its objects, is new to him. Its commonest incidents
are deeply interesting to him. Birth and death are exciting to
him, and solemn beyond expression. The opening and close
of the seasons, and their varying pleasures and pursuits, the
changes in the lives of the people about him ; the evolution of
his own little history, — the expanding of his faculties, his

204

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

achievements in study, his entrance upon more and more ad-
vanced duties and intercourses ; — these are enough to keep his
mind in full life and vigour : and he cannot receive his experi-
ence of life into the depths of his being unless he is at rest. If
he is to commune with his own heart, he must be still. If he
is to gather into his mind ripe observations of nature and man,
and to store them up reflectively, he must be still. If his senti-
ments and emotions are to be the natural result of the workings
of life upon him, he must be still, that life may work upon him
undisturbed. I have devoted a close attention to this subject;
and I certainly conclude, from my own observation, that the
intellectual and moral value of families who have lived quietly
at home (with due educational assistance) very far transcends
that of young people whose anxious parents have dragged them
about the world, — catching at advantages here and advantages
there, unconscious of the sacrifice of the greatest advantage of
all, — a natural method of life, with the quietude which belongs
to it. I think that the untravelled have a deeper reflectiveness
than the travelled, — a deeper sensibility, — a better working
power, on the whole, — a better preparation for the life before
them. They have more prejudice, and, of course, less accom-
plishment than the travelled ; but life and years are pretty sure
to abate the prejudice ; and a better timed travel may give the
accomplishment. If not, however, — if there must be a choice
of good and evil at the outset of life, who would not rather
see the fault of narrowness than of shallowness ? A mind
which has depth, must, in ordinary course, widen ; while a
shallow mind, however wide, can never be worth much. In the
sensibility, the difference is as marked as in the understanding:
and no wonder ; for to the quiet dweller at home life is an
awful scroll, slowly and steadily unrolling to disclose its charac-
ters of fire, which burn themselves in upon the brain ; while,
to the young rover, life is but too much like a show-box, whose
scenes shift too fast, and with too little interval, to make much
impression. I mention this here, chiefly for the sake of parents
who may feel occasional regrets that they cannot give to their

CARE OF THE HABITS. FAMILY HABITS. 205

children what they suppose to be the " advantages" of travel.
My conviction is that their children are happier than they sup-
pose. A moment's thought will show them how few the rovers
can be, — how overwhelming must be the majority of those who
must stay at home : and we may always be confident that the
lot of the great majority, duly improved, must be sufficient for
all the purposes of human life. Nothing that I have said is
meant at all in disapprobation of those occasional changes of
scene and society which all young people require more or less.
On the contrary, I would indicate, as one of the advantages of
a regular home life, that it prepares the novice to profit the
more by such occasional changes. It is a magnificent event
in the life of a quiet, industrious family when a house-painting,
or other domestic necessity, authorizes a visit to the sea-side,
or a plunge into the country for a couple of months. It serves
as a prodigious stimulus to the intellect ; and the recollection
never loses its brilliancy, to the latest period of life. It is worth
more to novices than a whole year of continental travelling to
practised rovers. The sunsets have sunk deep. The light-
house, the dip in the waves, the shingle, the distant fleet — or
the gorse on the common, the wood paths, with their wild
flowers, the breezy down, the cottage in the lane, — call up a
thrill in the heart of the town-bred child whenever the images
are called up. Such changes are good ; but they are not roving
in search of " advantages." Again, when one child among
several appears to pine in any degree, becomes irritable or
depressed, looks pale, or ceases to grow, it is a sign that some
change is needed. If such a boy or girl should be invited by
some relation or friend on a visit of any length, it is probable
that all will come right. The mind wants an airing, perhaps ;
and in a fresh abode, among new objects, and kind friends,
and different companionship, and change of habits, without
any further excitement, brooding thoughts are dispersed,
domestic affections revive and strengthen, the mind overflows
with new ideas, and after a time, home becomes intensely
longed for ; and the young absentee returns home — to father's

206

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

greeting, and mother's side, and brothers and sisters' com-
panionship, with more rapture than the prospect of the journey
ever caused. Such a change as this is good ; but it is not
roving for educational " advantages." It is an agreeable tonic
medicine ; not a regimen of high diet.

The case of the only child seems to ask a word of kind-
ness here. At the best, the case of the only child is a some-
what mournful one,— somewhat forlorn, — because it is unna-
tural. If it is unnatural for a multitude of children of the
same age to herd together in an Infant school, it is at least as
much so for a little creature to live alone among people with
full-grown brains, and all occupied with the pursuits and in-
terests of mature life. It is very well for the father to romp
with his child at spare times, and for the mother to love it
with her whole heart, and sympathize with it, with all the
sympathy that such love can inspire. This is all well: but
it does not make them children, — nor, therefore, natural com-
panions for a child. In this case, above all others, it is desir-
able that the child should be sent to school, when old enough :
and especially if the only one be a boy. A good day school,
where play is included, may do much to obviate the disadvan-
tages of the position. If this cannot be done, it is really
hardly to be hoped that mischief will not be done on the one
side or the other, — of too much or too little attention and sym-
pathy. Some may wonder at the idea of the only child being
in danger of having too little sympathy from its parents ; but
such cases are very conceivable and are occasionally witnessed.
If everybody sees how an only child — the light and charm of
the house, the idol of the mother, and the pet of everybody,
must unavoidably become of too much importance in its own
eyes and sutler accordingly, — who should feel this so anxiously
and constantly as the conscientious parents of an only child ?
and what is more probable than that, in their anxiety not to
spoil the mind they have under their charge, they should carry
the bracing system somewhat too far, and depress the child by
giving it less fostering and sympathy than it needs? They

CARE OF THE HABITS. — FAMILY HABITS.

207

would not, for its own sake, have it trout/' Fome ii their
friends, or self-important, or selfish ; and they keep it back.
But alas! if put back, the little thing is driven into loneliness;
and children are not made for loneliness, in any but a desert
life. Give a child the desert to rove in, with brown sheep to
tend, and a young camel to play with, and rocks and weeds,
and springs and stars and shrubby palms to live amongst, and
he may make a very pleasant life of it, all alone ; but not if he
lives in a street, and must not go out alone, and passes his life
among square rooms and stair-cases, and the measured move-
ments of grown-up people. An only child must be trouble-
some, as long as he is a child. He craves play, and sympa-
thy, and constant companionship ■ and he cannot do without
them — he must not be required to do without them. If he is
not sent to school, grown people must be his companions and
play-fellows, — the victims to his restlessness: and he must be

troublesome The case is nearly the same, — only somewhat

less desperate, — with a girl. Her parents cannot, if they have
eyes, hearts, or consciences, see her pine. They must either
provide her with natural companionship, or they must let
themselves and their friends be appropriated by her as com-
panions, till she grows up into fitness to be a companion to
them. — It is not included in this necessity that there should be
selfishness of temper and manners. The more fully and na-
tural y the needs of the social nature are met and supplied, the
less is the danger of this kind arising from peculiarity of posi-
tion.

208

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

CHAPTER XXVI.

CONCLUSION.

Is there any other department of Household Education than
those on which I have touched ? No one can be more aware
than I am of the scantiness of what I have said, when com-
pared with the vastness of the range and of the importance of
the subject. I could only, as I declared at the beginning, tell
a little of what I have seen and thought of the training of fami-
lies in private life ; but, admitting the meagre character of the
whole, is there one department left untouched ? I am not
aware of any that could be treated of in a volume for general
reading.

Some may, perhaps, ask for a chapter on Social Habits ; and
an important subject it truly is. But it appears to me to be in-
cluded in that of Family Habits and Manners. The same sim-
plicity and ingenuousness, the same respect and kindliness,
the same earnestness and cheerfulness, which should pervade
the conduct and manners in the interior of the household are
the best elements of conduct and manners in the world. I
see no discretion and no grace which is needed in wider social
intercourses that is not required by those of home. To the
parents, there may be some anxiety and uneasiness when their
sons and daughters make intimacies out of the house. The
warm friendships of youth may not perhaps be such as the
parents would have chosen. They may be such as surprise
and disappoint the parents. But the very fact of the surprise
and disappointment should show them that there is something
more in the matter than they understand or should seek to con-
trol. They cannot control the sympathies of any one ; and no
one being can fully understand the affinities which exist between
others. The points to be regarded are clear enough ; and
when the best is done that can be done, the rest may be left
without anxiety.

CONCLUSION.

209

The main point is to preserve the full confidence of the young
people. If perfect openness and the utmost practicable sym-
pathy be maintained, all must be safe. Young people must
win their own experience. They must find out character for
themselves : they must try their own ground in social life ;
they must be self-convicted of . the prejudices and partialities
which belong to their immaturity; and, while their own moral
rectitude and their ingenuous confidence in their parents sub-
sist, they can take no permanent harm from casual associations
which may be far from wise. The parents should remember
too how very important a part of the training of each individual
is of a kind which the parents have nothing to do with but to
witness, and to have patience with, as a piece of discipline to
themselves.

As has been observed before, there seems to be a fine pro-
vision in human nature for rectifying home tendencies which
would otherwise be too strong, and for supplying the imperfec-
tions of home experience by the process which takes place, —
the revolution of moral tastes which ensues, — upon the intro-
duction of young people into a wider circle than that of home.
The parents have naturally, — unavoidably, — laid the most stress
in the training of their children on those qualities which are
strongest in themselves, and slight, more or less, such as they
disregard, or are conscious of not excelling in themselves.
When the young people go out into the world, they are struck
by the novel beauty of virtues in full exercise which they have
seen and heard but little of, and fall in love with them, and
with those who possess them, and, with a fresh enthusiasm,
cherish them in themselves. Thus it is that we so often see
whole families of young people becoming characterised by the
virtues in which their parents are most deficient ; and also, a^
a consequence, by the faults which are the natural attendants
of those virtues. I have seen a case of parents, indulgent and
faithful to their children, virulently censorious to the rest of the
world ; — the children, while wrearing pinafores, disgusting
from their gleeful gossip, picked up from the elders, scorning

210

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

and quizzing everybody's thoughts and ways; — and those same
children, when abroad in the world as men and women, grow-
ing first grave, — then just and fair, — then philosophical, and at
last indulgent, as the truly philosophical must ever be. They
preserved the keen insight into character and the movements
of mind in which they had been trained at home, after first
recognising, and then opening their hearts to the beauty of
charity. I have seen the children of imprudent, lavish, and
embarrassed parents turn out eminently correct in their man-
agement of money matters : — the children of an untidy mother
turn out perfectly methodical ; — the children of a too social
father, remarkably retired and domestic ; and so on. Very
often the new and late virtue becomes too prominent, exclud-
iug the hereditary opposite qualities ; and in that case, when
these young people become parents, the same process takes
place, and their children strongly resemble their grandparents.
It is a curious spectacle, — that of such a moral oscillation ; —
and it is so common that every one may observe it. One of
the pieces of instruction that it yields is to parents ; that they
must now let Nature work, and take ofF their hands from med-
dling. They may themselves learn something if they will, in
silence and sympathy, from the spectacle of the expansion of
their children; and they may take the lesson into a light and
easy heart if they have hitherto done their duty as well as they
know how. There is nothing in what they see to hurt any but
an improper pride ; and they may make sure of an increased
reverence and love from their children if they have the mag-
nanimity to go hand in hand with them into new fields of moral
exercise and enterprise, and to admit the beauty and desirable-
ness of what they see.

Here we have arrived at the ultimate stage of Household
Education, — that where the entire household advances together,
in equal companionship, towards the great object of human
existence, the perfecting of each individual in it. We set out
with the view that the education of a household comprehended
the training and discipline of all its members ; and here we find

CONCLUSION.

211

ourselves at the same point again, amidst a great difference in
the circumstances. They are no longer all under the same
roof. One may be in the distant town ; another in a far country ;
a third in the next street, but seen only on Sundays : but still
they are one Household company, living in full confidence and
sympathy, though their eyes may seldom meet, and a clasp of
the hand may be a rare luxury. The mother who once received
discipline from her child when he was a wailing infant, keeping
her from her rest at midnight, receives another discipline from
him now when she sees him in earnest pursuit of some high
and holy aim whose nobleness had become somewhat clouded
to her through the cares of the world, and her very solicitude
for him. The father who had suffered perhaps too keenly
from some gross faults of his thoughtless boys in their season
of turbulence, receives from them now a new discipline — a
rebuke full of sweetness, — in the proof they offer that he had
distrusted Nature, — had failed in faith that she would do her
work wrell, if only the way was duly kept open for her. There
is a newT discipline for them in the gradual contraction of the
family circle, in the deepening quietness of the house, and in
the loss of the little hourly services which the elderly people
now think they hardly valued enough while they had them
every hour. We can never say that any part of the discipline
of life is over for any one of us ; and that of domestic life is
certainly not over for affectionate parents whose children are
called away from their side, however unquestionable the call
may be.

As for the younger generation of the household, — their educa-
tion by their parents never ceases while the parents live : and
the less assertion the parents make of this, the deeper are the
lessons they impress. The deepest impressions received in
life are supposed to be those imparted to the sensitive and
tenacious mind of childhood ; but the mature reverence and
affection of a manly mind are excited more efficaciously than
the emotions of childhood can ever be w7hen the active men
and w7omen who were once the children of a household see

212

HOUSEHOLD EDUCATION.

their gray-haired parents in the midst of them looking up to
Nature, and reaching after Truth and Right with the humble
trust and earnest docility which spread the sweetest charm of
youth over the countenance of age. However many and how-
ever rich are the lessons they have learned from their parents,
assuredly, in such a case, the richest is the last.

THE END.

CATALOGUE

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S

PUBLICATIONS.

THE AMERICAN ENCYCLOPAEDIA .

BROUGHT UP TO 1847.

THE ENCYCLOPAEDIA AMERICANA!

A POPULAR DICTIONARY

OF ARTS, SCIENCES, LITERATURE, HISTORY, POLITICS
AND BIOGRAPHY.

IN FOURTEEN LARGE OCTAVO VOLUMES OF OVER SIX HUNDRED DOUBLE
COLUMNED PAGES EACH.

For sale very low, in various styles of binding.

During the long period which this work has been before the public, it
has attained a very high character as an

ENCYCLOPAEDIA FOR DAILY REFERENCE,

Containing, in a comparatively moderate space, a vast quantity of informa-
tion which is scarcely to be met with elsewhere, and of the e*act kind
which is wanted in the daily exigencies of conversation and reading. It
has also a recommendation shared by no other work of the kind now before
the public, in being an American book. The numerous American Biogra-
phies, Accounts of American Inventions and Discoveries, References to our
Political Institutions, and the general adaptation of the whole to our own
peculiar habits and modes of thought, peculiarly suit it to readers in this
country. From these causes, it is also especially fitted for all

DISTRICT SCHOOL AND OTHER PUBLIC LIBRARIES,

in some of which it has been tried with great satisfaction. It fulfils, to a
greater extent than perhaps any similar work, the requirements for these
institutions, presenting, in a small compass and price, the materials of a
library, and furnishing a book for every-day use and reference, indispensable
to those removed from the large public collections.

iSome years having elapsed since the original thirteen volumes of the
ENCYCLOPAEDIA AMERICANA were published, to bring it up to
the present day, with the history of that period, at the request of numerous
subscribers, the publishers have just issued a

SUPPLEMENTARY VOLUME (THE FOURTEENTH),

BRINGING THE WORK UP TO THE YEAR 1847

EDITED BY HENRY VETHAKE, LL.D.

Vice-Provost and Professor of Mathematics in the University of Pennsylvania, Author of
"A Treatise on Political Economy."

In one large octavo volume of over 650 double columned pages.

LEA AND B LAN CHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

ENCYCLOPAEDIA AMERICANA.

The numerous subscribers who have been waiting the completion of this
volume can now perfect their sets, and all who want

A REGISTER OF THE EVENTS OF THE LAST FIFTEEN
YEARS, FOR THE WHOLE WORLD,

can obtain this volume separately: price Two Dollars uncut in cloth, or
Two Dollars and Fifty Cents in leather, to match the styles in which the
publishers have been selling sets.

Subscribers in the large cities can be supplied on application at any of the
principal bookstores ; and persons residing in the country can have their
sets matched by sending a volume in charge of friends visiting the city.

Complete sets furnished at very low prices in various bindings.

" The publishers of the Encyclopaedia Americana conferred an obligation on the public when,
fourteen years ago, they issued the thirteen volumes from their press. They contained a wonder-
ful amount of information, upon almost every subject which would be likely to occupy public
attention, or be the theme of conversation in the private circle. Whatever one would wish to
inquire about, it seemed only necessary to dip into the Encyclopaedia Americana, and there the
outline, at least, would be found, and reference made to those works which treat at large upon the
subject. It was not strange, therefore, that the work was popular. But in fourteen years, great
events occur. The last fourteen years have been full of them, and great discoveries have been,
made in sciences and the arts ; and great men have, by death, commended their names and deeda
to the fidelity of the biographer, so thnt the Encyclopaedia that approached perfection in 1832,
might fall considerably behind in 1846. To bring up the work, and keep it at the present point, has
been a task assumed by Professor Vethake, of the Pennsylvania University, a gentleman entirely
competent to such an undertaking ; and with a disposition to do a good work, he has supplied a
supplementary volume to the main work, corresponding in size and arrangements therewith, and
becoming, indeed, a fourteenth volume. The author has been exceedingly industrious, and very
fortunate in discovering and selecting materials, using all that Germany has presented, and resort-
ing to every species of information of events connected with the plan of the work, since the pub-
lication of the thirteen volumes. He has continued articles that were commenced in that work,
and added new articles upon science, biography, history, and geography, so as to make the present
volume a necessary appendage in completing facts to the other. The publishers deserve the
thanks of the readers of the volume, for the handsome type, and clear white paper they have used
in the publication."— United States Gazette.

" This volume is worth owning by itself, as a most convenient and reliable compend of recent His-
tory, Biography, Statistics, <tc, <kc. The entire work forms the cheapest and probably now the
most desirable Encyclopaedia published for popular use."— New York Tribune.

" The Conversations Lexicon (Encyclopaedia Americana) has become a household book m all the
intelligent families hi America, and is undoubtedly the best depository of biographical, historical,
geographical and political information of that kind which discriminating readers require."— Silli-
man'3 Journal.

"This volume of the Encyclopaedia is a Westminster Abbey of American reputation. What
names are on the roll since 1833 !"— N. Y. Literary World.

" The work to which this volume forms a supplement, is one of the most important contributions
that has ever been made to the literature of our country. Besides condensing into a compara-
tively narrow compass, the substance of larger works of the same kind which had preceded it, it
contains a vast amount of information that is not elsewhere to be found, and is distinguished, not
less for its admirable arrangement, than for the variety of subjects of which it treats. The present
volume, which i3 edited by one of the most distinguished scholars of our country, is worthy to
follow in the train of those which have preceded it. It is a remarkably felicitous condensation
of the more recent improvements in science and the arts, besides forming a very important addi-
•<on to the department of Biography, the general progress of society, Arc, <Lc " -Albany A^jus.

LEA AND BLAN CHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

CAMPBELL'S LORD CHANCELLORS.

JUST PUBLISHED.

LIVES OF THE LORD CHANCELLORS AND KEEPERS OF THE
GREAT SEAL OF ENGLAND,

FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES TO THE REIGN OF KING GEORGE IV.,

BY JOHN LORD CAMPBELL, A.M., F.R.S.E.
First Series, forming three neat volumes in demy octavo, extra cloth.
Bringing the work to the time of Lord Jeffries.

THE SECOND SERIES WILL SHORTLY FOLLOW IN FOUR VOLUMES TO MATCH.

" It is sufficient for us to thank Lord Campbell for the honest industry with which he has thus fur
prosecuted his large task, the general candor and Liberality with which he has analyzed the lives
and characters of a long succession of influential magistrates and ministers, and the manly style
of his narrative. We need hardly say that we shall expect with great interest the continuation
of this performance. But the present series of itself is more than sufficient to give Lord Campbell
a high station among the English authors of his age."— Quarterly Review.

" The volumes teem with exciting incidents, abound in portraits, sketches and anecdotes, and art
at once interesting and instructive. The work is not only historical and biographical, but it is
anecdotal and philosophical. Many of the chapters embody thrilling incidents, while as a whole,
the publication may be regarded as of a high intellectual order."— Inquirer.

"A work in three handsome octavo volumes, which we shall regard as both an ornament and an
honor to our library. A History of the Lord Chancellors of England from the institution of the
office, is necessarily a History of the Constitution, the Court, and the Jurisprudence of the King-
dom, and these volumes teem with a world of collateral matter of the liveliest character for the
general reader, as well as with much of the deepest interest for the professional or philosophical
mind." — Saturday Courier.

" The brilliant success of tliis work in England is by no means greater than its merits. It is
Certainly the most brilliant contribution to English history made within our recollection ; it has
the charm and freedom of Biography combined with the elaborate and careful comprehensiveness
Of History."— N. Y. Tribune.

MURRAY'S ENCYCLOPEDIA OF GEOGRAPHY.

THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF GEOGRAPHY,

COMPRISING

A COMPLETE DESCRIPTION OF THE EARTH, PHYSICAL,
STATISTICAL, CIVIL AND POLITICAL.

EXHIBITING

ITS RELATION TO THE HEAVENLY BODIES, ITS PHYSICAL STRUCTURE, THE
NATURAL HISTORY OF EACH COUNTRY. AND THE INDUSTRY,
COMMERCE. POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. AND CIVIL
AND SOCIAL STATE OF ALL NATIONS.

BY HUGH MURRAY, F.R.S.E, &c.

Assisted in Botanv, bv Professor HOOKER— Zoology, Sec. by W. W. SWAIN SON — Astronomy, &c.
by Professor WALLACE — Geology, <tc, by Professor J AMESON.
REVISED, WITH ADDITIONS,

BY THOMAS G. BRADFORD.

THE WHOLE BROUGHT UP, BY A SUPPLEMENT, TO 1843.
In three large octavo volumes.

VARIOUS STYLES OF BINDING.

This great work, furnished at a remarkably cheap rate, contains about
Nineteen Hundred large imperial Pages, and is illustrated by Eighty-
Two small Maps, and a colored Map of the United States, after Tan
ner's, together with about Eleven Hundred Wood Cuts executed in the
best style.

LEA AND BLANCIIARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

STRICKLAND'S QUEENS OF ENGLAND.

A NEW AND ELEGANT EDITION

LIVES OF THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND,

FROM THE NORMAN CONQUEST;

WITH ANECDOTES OF THEIR COURTS, NOW FIRST PUBLISHED FROM OFFICIAI
RECORDS AND OTHER AUTHENTIC DOCUMENTS, PRIVATE AS WELL AS PUBLIC.
NEW EDITION, WITH ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS.
BY AGNES STRICKLAND.

Forming a handsome series in crown octavo, beautifully printed with large type on fine paper, done
up in rich extra crimson cloth, and sold at a cheaper rate than former editions.

Volume One, of nearly seven hundred large pages, containing Volumes
One, Two, and Three, of the duodecimo edition, and Volume Two, of more
than six hundred pages, containing Volumes Four and Five of the 12mo.,
have just been issued. The remainder will follow rapidly, two volumes in
one, and the whole will form an elegant set of one of the most popular his-
tories of the day. The publishers have gone to much expense in pre-
paring this from the revised and improved London edition, to meet the fre-
quent inquiries for the " Lives of the Queens of England," in better style,
larger type, and finer paper than has heretofore been accessible to readers
in this country. Any volume of this edition sold separately.

A few copies still on hand of the Duodecimo Edition. Ten volumes are
now ready. Vol. I. — Contains Matilda of Flanders, Matilda of Scotland,
Adelicia of Louvaine, Matilda of Boulogne, and Eleanor of Aquitaine.
Price 50 cents, in fancy paper. Vol. II. — Berengaria of Navarre, Isabella
of Angouleme, Eleanor of Provence, Eleanor of Castile, Marguerite of
France, Isabella of France, Philippa of Hainault, and Anne of Bohemia.
Price 50 cents. Vol. III. — Isabella of Valois, Joanna of Navarre, Katha-
rine of Valois, Margaret of Anjou, Elizabeth Woodville, and Ann of War-
wick. Price 50 cents. Vol. IV. — Elizabeth of York, Katharine of Arragon,
Anne Boleyn, Jane Seymour, Anne of Cleves, and Katharine Howard.
Price 65 cents. Vol. V. — Katharine Parr and Queen Mary. Price 65 cents.
Vol. VI.— Queen Elizabeth. Price 65 cents. Vol. VII.— Queen Elizabeth
(continued), and Anne of Denmark. Price 65 cents. Vol. VIII. — Henrietta
Maria and Catharine of Braganza. Price 65 cents. Vol. IX. — Mary of
Modena. Price 75 cents. Vol. X. — Mary of Modena (continued), and
Mary II. Price 75 cents.

Any volume sold separately, or the whole to match in neat green cloth.
JUST PUBLISHED

VOLUME TEN:

CONTAINING

MARY OF MODENA, AND MARY II.

Price 75 cents in fancy paper. — Also, in extra green cloth.
"These volumes have the fascination of a romance united to the integrity of history." — Times.
"A most valuable and entertaining work."— Chronicle.

" This interesting and well-written work, in which the severe truth of history takes almost the
wildness of romance, will constitute a valuable addition to our biographical literature." — Morning
Herald.

" A valuable contribution to historical knowledge, to young persons especially. It contains a
mass of every kind of historical matter of interest, which industry and research could collect. We
have derived much entertainment and instruction from the work."— Atlienceum.

" The execution of this work is equal to the conception. Great pains have been taken to make
it both interesting and valuable." — Literary Gazette.

" A charming work — full of interest, at once serious and pleasing." — Monsieur Guizot.

' A most charming biographical memoir. We conclude by expressing our unqualified opinion,
that we know of no more valuable contribution to modem history than this ninth volume of
Strickland's Livea of the Queens."— Morning Herald.

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

SCHOOL BOOKS.

SCHMITZ AND ZUMPT'S CLASSICAL SERIES.

VOLUME I.

C. JUL.II CiESARIS

COMMENT A RII DE BELLO GALLIC O.

WITH AN INTRODUCTION, NOTES, AND A GEOGRAPHICAL INDEX IN ENGLISH,
ALSO, A MAP OF GAUL, AND ILLUSTRATIVE ENGRAVINGS.
In one handsome 18mo. volume, extra cloth.
This Series has been placed under the editorial management of two eminent scholars
and practical teachers, Dr. Schmitz, Rector of the High School, Edinburgh, and Dr.
Zumpt, Professor in the University of Berlin, and will combine the following advan-
tages : —

1. A gradually ascending series of School Books on a uniform plan, so as to constitute within a
definite number, a complete Latin Curriculum.

2. Certain arrangements in the rudimentary volumes, which will insure a fair amount of know-
ledge in Roman literature to those who are not designed for professional life, and who therefore
will not require to extend their studies to the advanced portion of the series.

3. The text of each author will be such as has been constituted bv the most recent collations of
manuscripts, and will be prefaced by biographical and critical sketches in English, that pupils may
be made aware of the character and peculiarities of the work they are about to study.

4. To remove difficulties, and sustain an interest in the text, explanatory notes in English will
be placed at the foot of each page, and such comparisons drawn as may serve to unite the history
of the past with the realities of modern times.

5. The works, generally, will be embellished with maps and illustrative engravings,— accompani-
ments which will greatly assist the student's comprehension of the nature of the countries and
leading circumstances described.

6. The respective volumes will be issued at a price considerably less than that usually charged ;
and as the texts are from the most eminent sources, and the whole series constructed upon a de-
terminate plan, the practice of issuing new and altered editions, which is complained of alike by
teachers and pupils, will be altogether avoided.

From among the testimonials which the publishers have received, they append the
following to show that the design of the series has been fully and successfully carried
out :—

Central High School, Phila., June 29, 1847

Gentlemen : —

I have been much pleased with your edition of Caesar's Gallic Wars, being: part of Schmitz and
Zumpt's classical series for schools. The work seems happily adapted to the wants of learners.
The notes contain much valuable information, concisely and accurately expressed, and on the points
that really require elucidation, while at the same time the book is not rendered tiresome and ex-
pensive by a useless array of mere learning. The text is one in high repute, and your reprint of it
is pleasing to the eye. I take great pleasure in commending the publication to the attention of
teachers. It will, I am persuaded, commend itself to all who give it a fair examination.

Very Respectfully, Your Obt. Servt.,

JOHN S. HART,

To Messrs. Lea <5s Elanchard. Principal PkUa. High School.

Gmtlemen.— June 28, \8i7.

The edition of "Caesar's Commentaries," embraced in the Classical Section of Chambers's Edu-
cational Course, and given to the world under the auspices of Drs. Schmitz and Zumpt has re-
ceived from me a candid examination. I have no hesitation in saying, that the design expressed in
the notice of the publishers, has been successfully accomplished, and that the work is well calcu-
lated to become popular and useful. The text appears to be unexceptionable. The annotations
embrace in condensed form such valuable information, as must not only facilitate the research of
Hie scholar, but also stimulate to further inquiry, without encouraging indolence. This is an im-
portant feature in the right prosecution of classical studies, which ought to be more generally un-
derstood and appreciated. H. HAVEKST1CK,

Prof, of Ancient Languages, Central High School, Phila.

VOLUME II.

P. VIRGILII MARONIS CARMINA,

NEARLY READY.

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

SCHOOL BOOKS.

BIRD'S NATURAL PHILOSOPHY.

NEARLY READY.

ELEMENTS OF NATURAL, PHILOSOPHY,

BEING AN EXPERIMENTAL INTRODUCTION TO THE PHYSICAL SCIENCES.

ILLUSTRATED WITH OVER THREE HUNDRED WOOD-CUTS.

BY GOLDING BIRD, M.D.,

Assistant Physician to Guy's Hospital.
FROM THE THIRD LONDON EDITION.
In one neat volume.

"By the appearance of Dr. Bird's work, the student has now all that he can desire in one neat,
concise, and well-digested volume. The elements of natural philosophy are explained in very sim-
ple language, and illustrated by numerous wood-cuts."— Medical Gazette.

ARNOTT'S PHYSICS.

ELEMENTS OF PHYSICS; OR, NATURAL PHILOSOPHY,

GENERAL AND MEDICAL.

WRITTEN FOR UNIVERSAL USE, IN PLAIN, OR NON-TECHNICAL LANGUAGE.

BY NIELL ARNOTT, 3VT.D.

A NEW EDITION, BY ISAAC HAYS, M. D.

Complete in one octavo volume, with nearly two hundred wood-cuts.

This standard work has been long and favourably known as one of the best popular expositions
of the interesting science it treats of. It is extensively used in mapy of the first seminaries.

ELEMENTARY CHEMISTRY, THEORETICAL AND PRACTICAL.

BY GEORGE FOWNES, Ph. D.,

Chemical Lecturer in the Middlesex Hospital Medical School, <kc, <&c.
WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS.
EDITED, WITH ADDITIONS,

BY ROBERT BRIDGES, M.D.,

Professor of General and Pharmaceutical Chemistry in the Philadelphia College of Pharmacy, &c, <fec
SECOND AMERICAN EDITION.
In one large duodecimo volume, sheep or extra cloth, with nearly two
hundred wood-cuts.

The character of this work is such as to recommend it to all colleges and academies in want of a
text-hook. It is fully brought up to the day, containing all the late views and discoveries that have
so entirely changed the face or the science, and it is completely illustrated with very numerous
wood engravings, explanatory of all the different processes and forms of apparatus. Though strictly
scientific, it is written with great clearness and simplicity of style, rendering it easy to be compre-
hended by those who are commencing the studv.

It may be had well bound in leather, or neatly done up in strong cloth. Its low price places it
within the reach of all.

ELEMENTS OPOPTICS,

BY SIR DAVID BREWSTER.
WITH NOTES AND ADDITIONS, BY A. D. B ACHE, LL.D.
Superintendent of the Coast Survey, <kc
In one volume, 12mo., with numerous wood-cut*.

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

SCHOOL BOOKS.

BOLMAR'S FRENCH SERIES.

New editions of the following works, by A. Bolmar, forming, in con-
nection with "Bolmar's Levizac," a complete series for the acquisition of
the French language.

A SELECTION OF ONE HUNDRED PERRIN'S FABLES,

ACCOMPANIED BY A KEY,
Containin? the text, a literal and free translation, arranged in such a manner as to
point out the difference between the French and English idiom, Sec, in 1 vol., 12mo.

A COLLECTION OF COLLOQUIAL PHRASES,

ON EVERY TOPIC NECESSARY TO MAINTAIN CONVERSATION,
Arranged under different heads, with numerous remarks on the peculiar pronunciation
and uses of various words ; the whole so disposed as considerably to facilitate the
acquisition of a correct pronunciation of the French, in 1 vol., 18ino.

LES A VENTURES DE TELE3IAQUE PAR FENELON,

In 1 vol., 12mo., accompanied by a Key to the first eight books, in 1 vol., 12mo., con-
taining, like the Fables, the text, a literal and free translation, intended as a sequel
to the Fables. Either volume sold separately.

ALL THE FRENCH VERBS,

Both regular and irregular, in a small volume.

NEARLY READY.

PRINCIPLES OF PHYSICS AND METEOROLOGY,

BY J. MULLER,

Professor of Physics at the University of Frieburg.

ILLUSTRATED WITH NEARLY FIVE HUNDRED AND FIFTT ENGRAVINGS ON WOOD, AND TWO

COLORED PLATES.

In one octavo volume.
This Edition is improved by the addition of various articles, and will be found in
every respect brought up to the time of publication.

"The Physics of Muller is a work, superb, complete, unique : the greatest want known to Eng-
lish Science coukl not have been better supplied. The work is of surpassing interest. The value
of this contribution to the scientific records of this country may be duly estimated bv the fact, that
ttie cost of the original drawings and engravings alone has exceeded the sum of 20007."— Lancet.
March, 1847.

AN ATLAS OP ANCIENT GEOGBAFHY,

BY SAMUEL BUTLER, D.D.,
Late Lord Bishop of Litchfield,

CONTAINING TWENTY- ONE COLOURED MAPS, AND A COMPLETE ACCENTUATED INDEX.

In one octavo volume, half-bound.

BUTLER'S ANCIENT GEOGRAPHY.

GEOGRAPHIA CLASSICA,

OR, THE APPLICATION OF ANCIENT GEOGRAPHY TO THE CLASSICS
BY SAMUEL BUTLER, D.D., F.R.S.

REVISED BY HIS SON.

FIFTH AMERICAN, FROM THE LAST LONDON EDITION,

WITH QUESTIONS ON THE MAPS, BY JOHN FROS1.
In one duodecimo volume, half-bound, to match the Atlas.

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

SCHOOL BOOKS.

WHITE'S UNIVERSAL HISTORY.

LATELY PUBLISHED,

ELEMENTS OF UNIVERSAL HISTORY,

ON A NEW AND SYSTEMATIC PLAN;
FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES TO THE TREATY OF VIENNA ; TO WHICH IS ADDED, A
SUMMARY OF THE LEADING EVENTS SINCE THAT PERIOD, FOR THE
USE OF SCHOOLS AND PRIVATE STUDENTS.
BY H. WHITE, B.A.,

TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.

WITH ADDITIONS AND QUESTIONS,

BY JOHN S. HART, A.M.,

Principal of the Philadelphia High School, and Professor of Moral and Mental Science, <fcc., <kc
In one volume, large duodecimo, neatly bound with Maroon Backs.

This work is arranged on a new plan, which is believed to combine the
advantages of those formerly in use. It is divided into three parts, corre-
sponding with Ancient, Middle, and Modern History ; which parts are again
subdivided into centuries, so that the various events are presented in the
order of time, while it is so arranged that the annals of each country can be
read consecutively, thus combining the advantages of both the plans hitherto
pursued in works of this kind. To guide the researches of the student,
there will be found numerous synoptical tables, with remarks and sketches
of literature, antiquities, and manners, at the great chronological epochs.

The additions of the American editor have been principally confined to
the chapters on the history of this country. The series of questions by him
will be found of use to those who prefer that system of instruction. For
those who do not, the publishers have had an edition prepared without the
questions.

This work has already passed through several editions, and has been
introduced into many of the higher Schools and Academies throughout the
country. From among numerous recommendations which they have re-
ceived, the publishers annex the following from the Deputy Superintendent
of Common Schools for New York:

Secretary's Office, > State of New York.

Department of Common Schools. > - Albany, Oct. Uth, 1845.

Messrs. Lea <fr Blanchard :

Gentlemen: — I have examined the copy of "White's Universal History," which you were so
obliging as to send me, and cheerfully and fully concur in the commendations of its value, as a com-
prehensive and enlightened survey of the Ancient and Modern World which many of the most com-
petent judges have, as I perceive, already bestowed upon it. It appears to me to be admirably
adapted to the purposes of our public schools ; and I unhesitatingly approve of its introduction into
those seminaries of elementary instruction. Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

SAMUEL S. RANDALL,
Deputy Superintendent Common Schools.
This work is admirably calculated for District and other libraries : an edition for that pnrpose
without questions has been prepared, done up in strong cloth.

HERSCHELL'S ASTRONOMY,

A TREATISE ON ASTRONOMY,

BY SIR JOHN F. W. IIERSCTIELL, F. R. S., &c.

WITH" NUMEROUS PLATES AND WOOD-CUTS.

A NEW EDITION, WITH A PREFACE AND A SERIES OF QUESTIONS,
BY S. C. WALKER.
In one volume, l?mo.

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

ROSCOE'S LIVES OF THE KINGS OF ENGLAND.

TO MATCH MISS STRICKLAND'S "QUEENS."

VOLUME ONE, CONTAINING- THE

LIFE OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR.

In neat royal duodecimo, extra cloth, or fancy paper.
"The historical reader will find this a work of peculiar interest. It displays throughout the
most pains-taking research, and a style of narrative which has all the lucidity and strength of
Gibbon. It is a work with which, shedding such a light as we are justified in saying it will do
upon English history, every library ought to be provided."— Sunday Times.

MEMOIRS OF THE LOVES OF THE POETS,
Biographical Sketches of Women celebrated in Ancient and
Modern Poetry.

BY MRS. JAMIESON.
In one royal duodecimo volume, price 75 cents.

FREDERICK THE GREAT, HIS COURT AND TIMES,

EDITED, WITH AN INTRODUCTION, BY THOMAS CAMP-
BELL, ESQ., AUTHOR OF THE "PLEASURES OF HOPE."
Second Series, in two duodecimo volumes, extra cloth.

HISTORY OF CONGRESS,

EXHIBITING A CLASSIFICATION OF THE PROCEEDINGS OF THE SENATE AND THE
HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES. FROM 1789 TO 1793. EMBRACING THE FIRST
TERM OF THE ADMINISTRATION OF GENERAL WASHINGTON.

In one large octavo volume of over 700 pages, price only $1.50.

MOORE'S SHELAND-HOW C02V2PI.ETB.

THE HISTORY OF IRELAND,

FROM THE EARLIEST KINGS OF THAT REALM DOWN TO ITS LATEST CHIEFS.

In two octavo volumes, extra cloth.
Mr. Moore has at length completed his History of Ireland containing the most troubled and inter-
esting periods through which it has passed. Those who have possessed themselves of the work as
far as the Great Expedition against Scotland in 1515, can procure the second volume separate.

HISTORY OF MWaImFfF^^ IN 1815,

CONTAINING MINUTE DETAILS OF THE BATTLES OF QUATRE-BRAS, LIGNY. WAVRE
AND WATERLOO.

BY CAPTAIN W. SIBORNE.

In one octavo volume, with Maps and Plans of Battles, &c, viz.:
L Part of Belgium, indicating the distribution of the armies on commencin? hostilities. 2. Field
of Quatre-Bras, at 3 o'clock, P. M. 3. Field of Quatre-Bras, at 7 o'clock, P. M. 4. Field of Ligny,
at a quarter past 2 o'clock, P. M. 5. Field of Li?ny, at half past 8 o'clock, P. M. 6. Field of Water-
loo, at a quarter past 11 o'clock, A. M. 7. Field of Waterloo, at a quarter before 8 o'clock, P. M.
8. Field of Waterloo, at 5 minutes past 8 o'clock, P. M. 9. Field of Wavre, at 4 o'clock, P. ML 18th
June. 10. Field of Wavre, at 4 o'clock, A.M., 19th June. 11. Part of France, on which is shown
the advance of the Allied Armies into the Kingdom.

TEST BOOK OF ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY.

BY J. C. I GIESELER, PROFESSOR OF THEOLOGY IN GOTTINGEN. TRANSLATED
FROM THE THIRD GERMAN EDITION, BY F. CUNNINGHAM.
In three octavo volumes, containing over 1200 large pages.

ELEMENTS OP UNIVERSAL HISTORY,

ON A NEW AND SYSTEMATIC PLAN, FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES TO THE TREATY
OF VIENNA, TO WHICH IS ADDED A SUMMARY OF THE LEADING
EVENTS SINCE THAT PERIOD.

BY H. WHITE, B.A.

BIXTH AMERICAN EDITION, WITH ADDITIONS
BY JOHN S. HART, A.M.

In one large royal 12rao. volume, neat extra cloth.

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

GRAHAME'S COLONIAL HISTORY.

HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES.

FROM THE PLANTATION OF THE BRITISH COLONIES
TILL THEIR ASSUMPTION OF INDEPENDENCE.
SECOND AMERICAN EDITION,
ENLARGED AND AMENDED,

WITH A MEMOIR BY PRESIDENT QUINCY.

IN TWO LAKCE OCTAVO VOLUMES, EXTRA CLOTII,

WITH A PORTRAIT.

This work having assumed the position of a standard history of this
country, the publishers have been induced to issue an edition in smaller size
and at a less cost, that its circulation may be commensurate with its merits.
It is now considered as the most impartial and trustworthy history thai has
yet appeared.

A few copies of the edition in four volumes, on extra fine thick paper,
price eight dollars, may still be had by gentlemen desirous of procuring a
beautiful work for their libraries.

" It is universally known to literary men as, in its orisrinal form, one of the earliest histories of
this country, and certainly one of the best ever written by a foreigner. It has heen constantly and
copiously used by every one who has. since its appearance, undertaken the history of this country.
In the course of the memoir prefixed to it, it is vindicated from the aspersions cast on it by Mr.
Bancroft, wno, nevertheless, has derived from it a vast amount of the information and documentary
material of his own ambitious, able and extended work. It is issued in two volumes, and cannot
fail to fiLd its way to every library of any pretensions. — New York Courier and Enquirer.

COOPER'S NAVAL HISTORY.

HISTORY OF THE NAVY OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA,

BY J. FENI M ORE COOPER.

THIRD EDITION, WITH CORRECTIONS AND ADDITIONS.
Complete, two volumes in one, neat extra cloth,
With a Portrait of the Author, Two Maps, and Portraits of Paul Jones, Baindridqe,
Dale, Preble, Decatur, Porter, Perry, and McDonough.

WRAXALL'S HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.

HISTORICAL MEMOIRS OF MY OWN TIMES,

BY SIR N. W. WRAXALL.

ONE NEAT VOLUME, EXTRA CLOT II.

This is the work for which, in consequence of too truthful a portraiture of Catherine If., the
author was imprisoned and fined. Taught by this experience, his succeeding memoirs he sup-
pressed until after his death.

WRAXALL'S POSTHUMOUS MEMOIRS.

POSTHUMOUS MEMOIRS OF HIS OWN TIMES,

BY SIR N. W. WRAXALL.

IN ONE VOLUME, EXTRA CLOTH.

This work contains much secret and amusing anecdote of the prominent personages of the day,
which rendered its posthumous publication necessary

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

WALPOLE'S LETTERS AND MEMOIRS.

THE LETTERS OF HORACE WALPOLE, EARL OF ORFORD,

CONTAINING- NEARLY THREE HUNDRED LETTERS.
NOW FIRST PUBLISHED FROM THE ORIGINALS, AND FORMING AN UNINTER-
RUPTED SERIES FROM 1735 TO 1797.

In four large octavo volumes, with a portrait of the Author.

THE LETTERS OF HORACE WALPOLE, EARL OF ORFORD,
TO SIR HORACE MANN, FROM 17G0 TO 1785.
NOW FIRST PUBLISHED FROM THE ORIGINAL MSS.

In two octavo volumes, to match the above.

MEMOIRS OF THE REIGN OF KING GEORGE THE THIRD,
BY HORACE WALPOLE.
NOW FIRST PUBLISHED FROM THE ORIGINAL MSS.

EDITED, WITH NOTES,

BY SIR DENIS LE MARCHANT.

These Memoirs comprise the first twelve years of the reign of George III. ; and recommend
themselves especially to the reader in this country, as containing an account of the early trouble!
with America. They form a sequel to the " Memoirs of George the Second," by the same author.

br?w^

HISTORY OF THE HUGUENOTS— A NEW EDITION,

CONTINUED TO THE PRESENT TIME.

BY W. S. BROWNING.

In one large octavo volume, extra cloth.

" One of the most interesting and valuable contributions to modern history."— Gentleman's Maga-
zine.

" Not the least interesting portion of the work has reference to the violence and persecution*
of 1815."— Times.

INGERSQLL'S LATE WAR.

HISTORICAL SKETCH OF THE SECOND WAR BETWEEN
THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA AND GREAT
BRITAIN, DECLARED BY ACT OF CONGRESS,
JUNE 18, 1812, AND CONCLUDED BY
PEACE, FEBRUARY 15, 1815.
B H CHASLES J. INGEESOLL.
One volume octavo of 516 pages, embracing the events of 1812 — 1813.
Beautifully printed, and done up in neat extra cloth.

RU^rTo1jiTTrTo?^N.

MEMORANDA OF A RESIDENCE AT THE COURT OF LONDON,

COMPRISING INCIDENTS OFFICIAL AND PERSONAL, FROM 1819 TO 1825;

IKCLUDING NEGOTIATIONS QjS THE OREGON QUESTION. AND OTHER UNSETTLED RELATIONS
BETWEEN THE UNITED STATES AND GREAT BRITAIN.

BY RICHARD HUSK,

.Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary from the United States, from 1817 to 182b
In one large and beautiful octavo volume, extra cloth.

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

N I E B U HR'S ROME.

THE HISTORY OF ROME,

BY B. G. NIEBUHR.
COMPLETE IN TWO LARGE OCTAVO VOLUMES.
Done up in extra cloth ; or five parts, paper, price $1.00 each.

The last three parts of this valuable book have never before been published in this country, hav-
ing only lately been printed in Germany, and translated in England. The two last of these com-
prise Professor Niebuhr's Lectures on the latter part of Roman History, so long lost to the world.

" It is an unexpected surprise and pleasure to the admirers of Niebuhr — that is, to all earnest stu-
dents of ancient history — to recover, as from the grave, the lectures before us." — Eclectic Review.

"The world has now in Niebuhr an imperishable model." — Edinburgh Review, Jan. 1&44.

" Here we close our remarks upon this memorable work, a work which, of all that have appeared
in our ase, is the best fitted to excite men of learning to intellectual activity : from which the most
accomplished scholar may gather fresh stores of knowledge, to which the most experienced politi-
cian may resort for theoretical and practical instruction, and which no person can read as it ought
to be read, without feeling the better and more generous sentiments of his common human nature
enlivened and strengthened." — Edinburgh Review.

" It is since I saw you that I have been devouring with the most intense admiration the third
volume of Niebuhr. The clearness and comprehensiveness of all his military details is a new
feature in that wonderful mind, and how inimitably beautiful is that brief account of Temi."— Dr
Arnold (Life, vol. ii.)

PROFESSOR RANKE'S HISTORICAL WORKS.

HISTORY OF THE POPES,

THEIR CHURCH AND STATE, IN THE SIXTEENTH AND SEVENTEENTH CENTURIES
BY LEOPOLD RANKE.

TRANSLATED FROM THE LAST EDITION OF THE GERMAN, BY WALTER K. KELLY, ESQ., B. A.

In two parts, paper, at $1.00 each, or one large volume, extra cloth.

"A book extraordinary for its learning and impartiality, and for its just and liberal views of the
times it describes. The best compliment that can be .paid to Mr. Ranke, is, that each side has
accused him of partiality to its opponent: the German Protestants complaining that his work is
written in too Catholic a spirit ; — the Catholics declaring, that generally impartial as he is, it is
clear to perceive the Protestant tendency of the history." — London Times.

THE TURKISH AND SP^ ,

IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY AND BEGINNING OF THE SEVENTEENTH,
BY PROFESSOR LEOPOLD RANKE.

TRANSLATED FROM THE LAST EDITION OF THE GERMAN, BY WALTER K. KELLY, ESO.

Complete in one part, paper, price 75 cents.
This work was published bv the author in connexion with the " History of the Popes," under
the name of " Sovereigns and Nations of Southern Europe, in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Cen-
turies." It may be used separately, or bound up with that work, for which purpose two titles will
be found in it. ^

HISTORIC OF THE REFORMATION! IN GERMANY,

BY PROFESSOR LEOPOLD RANKE.
PARTS FIRST, SECOND AND THIRD NOW READY.

TRANSLATED FROM THE SECOND EDITION, BY SARAH AUSTIN.

To be completed in Five parts, each part containing one volume of the London edition.
" Few modern writers possess such qualifications for doing justice to so great a subject as Leo
pold Ranke. — Indefatigable in exertions, he revels in the toil of examining archives and state
papers : honest in purpose, he shapes his theories from evidence ; not like D'Aubigne, whose
romance of the Reformation selects evidence to support preconceived theory. Ranke never forgets
the statesman in the theologian, or the historian in the partisan." — Athenaum.

BROUGHAM ON THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.

One volume 12mo., paper, price 50 cents.

STUDIES OF THE LIFE OF WOMAN.

FROM THE FRENCH OF MADAME NECKER DE SAUSSURE.
In one neat 12mo. volume, fancy paper. Price 75 cents.

THE EDUCATION OF MOTHERS; OR, CIVILIZATION OF
MANKIND BY WOMEN.

FROM THE FRENCH OF L. AI ME MARTIN.
In one 12mo. volume, paper, price 75 cents ; or in extra cloth.

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATION 3.

POPULAR SCIENCE.

PHILOSOPHY IN SPORT, MADE SCIENCE IN EARNEST,

BEING AN ATTEMPT TO ILLUSTRATE THE FIRST PRIN
CIPLES OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY, BY THE
AID OF THE POPULAR TOYS AND
SPORTS OF YOUTH.

FROM THE SIXTH AND GREATLY IMPROVED LONDON EDITION.

In one very neat royal 18mo. volume, with nearly one hundred illustrations on wood.
Fine extra crimson cloth.

" Messrs. Lea <fe Blanchard have issued, in a beautiful manner, a handsome book, called ' Philoso-
phy in Sport, made Science in Earnest.' This is an admirable attempt to illustrate the first prin-
ciples of Natural Philosophy, by the aid of the popular toys and sports of youth. Useful informa-
tion is conveyed in an easy, graceful, yet dignified manner, and rendered easy to the simplest under-
standing. The book is au admirable one, and must meet with universal favour."— N. Y. Evening
Mirror.

ENDLESS AMUSEMENT.

JUST ISSUED.

ENDLESS AMUSEMENT,

A COLLECTION OF

NEARLY FOUR HUNDRED ENTERTAINING EXPERIMENTS
IN VARIOUS BRANCHES OF SCIENCE,

INCLUDING

ACOUSTICS, ARITHMETIC, CHEMISTRY, ELECTRICITY, HYDRAULICS, HYDROSTATICS,
MAGNETISM, MECHANICS, OPTICS, WONDERS OF THE AIR PUMP, ALL THE
POPULAR TRICKS AND CHANGES OF THE CARDS, <5tc., &c

TO WHICH IS ADDED,

A COMPLETE SYSTEM OF PYROTECHNY,

OR THE ART OF MAKING FIRE-WORKS :

THE WHOLE SO CLEARLY EXPLAINED AS TO BE WITHIN REACH
OF THE MOST LIMITED CAPACITY.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.

FROM THE SEVENTH LONDON EDITION.
In one neat royal 18mo. volume, fine extra crimson cloth.
This work has long supplied instructive amusement to the rising: generations in England, and
will doubtless be hailed with pleasure by those of this country who like (and what boy does not}
the marvellous tricks and changes, experiments and wonders afforded by the magic of science and
jugglery.

CHEMISTRY OF THE FOUR SEASONS,

SPRING, SUMMER, AUTUMN, AND WINTER.

AN ESSAY, PRINCIPALLY CONCERNING NATURAL PHENOMENA, ADMITTING 01?
INTERPRETATION BY CHEMICAL SCIENCE, AND ILLUSTRATING
PASSAGES OF SCRIPTURE.
BY THOMAS GRIFFITHS,

PROFESSOR OF CHEMISTRY IN THE MEDICAL COLLEGE OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW'S HOSPITAL, ETC.

In one large royal 12mo. volume, with many Wood-Cuts, extra cloth.

" Chemistry is assuredly one of the most useful and interesting of the natural sciences. Chemical
changes meet us at every step, and during every season, the winds and the rain, the heat and the
frosts, each have their peculiar and appropriate phenomena. And those who have hitherto re-
mained insensible to these changes and unmoved amid such remarkable, and often startling re-
sults, will lose their apathy upon reading the Chemistry of the 'Four Seasons,' and be prepared to
enjoy the highest intellectual pleasures. Conceived in a happy spirit, and written with taste and
elegance, the essay of Mr. Griffiths cannot fail to receive the admiration of cultivated minds; and
those who have looked less carefully into nature's beauties, will find themselves led on step by
step, until they realize a new intellectual being. Such works, we believe, exert a happy influence
over society, and hence we hope that the present one may be extensively read."— The Western
Lancet.

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

POPULAR SCIENCE.
KIRBY AND SPENCErS ENTOMOLOGY, FOR POPULAR USE.

AN INTRODUCTION TO ENTOMOLOGY;

OR, ELEMENTS OF THE NATURAL HISTORY OP INSECTS: COMPRISING AN ACCOUNT
OF NOXIOUS AND USEFUL INSECTS, OF THEIR METAMORPHOSES, FOOD,
STRATAGEMS, HABITATIONS, SOCIETIES, MOTIONS, NOISES,
HYBERNATION, INSTINCT, <tc, <fcc.
With Plates, Plain or Colored.
BY WILLIAM KIRBY, M.A., F.R.S., AND WILLIAM SPENCE, ESQ., F.R.S.

FROM THE SIXTH LONDON EDITION, WHICH WAS CORRECTED AND CONSIDERABLY ENLARGED.

In one large octavo volume, extra cloth.

" We have beer, greatly interested in running over the pages of this treatise. There is scarcely, in
the wide range of natural science, a more interesting or instructive study than that of insects, or
one than is calculated to excite more curiosity or wonder.

" The popular form of letters is adopted by the authors in imparting a knowledge of the subject,
which renders the work peculiarly fitted for our district school libraries, which are open to all ages
and classes." — Hunt's Merchants' Magazine.

JUST ISSUED.

THE ANCIENT WORLD, OR, PICTURESQUE SKETCHES OF CREATION,

BY D. T. ANSTED, M.A., F.R.S., F.G.S., &c.

PROFESSOR OF GEOLOGY IN KING'S COLLEGE, LONDON.

In one very neat volume, fine extra cloth, with about One Hundred and Fifty Illustrations.
The object of this work is to present to the general reader the chief results of Geological investi-
gation in a simple and comprehensive manner. The author has avoided all minute details of geo-
logical formations and particular observations, and has endeavoured as far as possible to present
striking views of the wonderful results of the science, divested of its mere technicabties. The
work is got up in a handsome manner, with numerous illustrations, and forms a neat volume for the
centre table.

GEOLOGY AND MINERALOGY,

WITH INSTRUCTIONS FOR THE QUALITATIVE ANALYSIS OF MINERALS.
BY JOSHUA TRIMMER, F. G. S.

With two Hundred and Twelve Wood-Cuts, a handsome octavo volume, bound in embossed cloth.

Tliis is a systematic introduction to Mineralogy, and Geology, admirably calculated to instruct
the student in those sciences. The organic remains of the various formations are well illustrated
by numerous figures, which are drawn with great accuracy.

NEW AND COMPLETE MEDICAL GOTANY.

NOW READY.

MEDICAL BOTANY,

OR, A DESCRIPTION OF ALL THE MORE IMPORTANT PLANTS USED IN MEDICINE
AND OF THEIR PROPERTIES, USES AND MODES OF ADMINISTRATION.
BY R. EGIjESFEIiD GRIFFITH, M.D., «&c, &c.
In one large octavo volume. With about three hundred and fifty Illustrations on Wood.

a populaTtrIaTise^^

PUBLISHED UNDER THE AUSPICES OF THE SOCIETY FOR THE PROMOTION OP
POPULAR INSTRUCTION; WITH NUMEROUS WOOD-CUTS.

BY W. B. CARPENTER.

In one volume, 12mo., extra cloth.

A TREATISE ON COMPARATIVE ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY,

BY W. B. CARPENTER.
REVISED AND MUCH IMPROVED BY THE AUTHOR. WITH BEAUTIFUL STEEL PLATES.
(Now preparing.)

CARPENTER'S ANIMAL PHYSIOLOGY,

WITH ABOUT THREE HUNDRED WOOD-CUTS.
(Preparing j

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

HUMAN HEALTH:

OR, THE INFLUENCE OF ATMOSPHERE AND LOCALITY, CHANGE OF AIR AND
CLIMATE, SEASONS, FOOD, CLOTHING, BATHING, MINERAL SPRINGS,
EXERCISE, SLEEP, CORPOREAL AN I) MENTAL PUR-
SUITS, &c, &c, ON HEALTHY MAN,

CONSTITUTING ELEMENTS OF HYGIENE.
BY ROBLEY DUNGLISON, M.D., &c.,&c.
In one octavo volume.
%* Persons in the pursuit of health, as well as those who desire to retain
it, would do well to examine this work. The author states the work has
been prepared "to enable the general reader to understand the nature of
the actions of various influences on human health, and assist him in adopt-
ing such means as may tend to its preservation: hence the author has
avoided introducing technicalities, except where they appeared to him indis-
pensable."

REMARKS ON THE INFLUENCE OF MENTAL EXCITEMENT,

AND MENTAL CULTIVATION UPON HEALTH.
BY A. B R I G H AM, 3VI.D.

Third edition ; one volume, 18mo.

A TREATISE ON

CORNS, BUNIONS, THE DISEASES OF THE NAILS,

AND THE GENERAL MANAGEMENT OF THE FEET.

BY LEWIS DURLACHER,

SURGEON CHIROPODIST TO THE QUEEN.

In one duodecimo volume, cloth.

BRIDGE WATER TREATISES.

The whole complete in 7 vols. 8vo., various bindings,

CONTAINING :

ROGET'S ANIMAL AND VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, in 2 vols., with many cuts.
KIRBY ON THE HISTORY, HABITS AND INSTINCT OF ANIMALS, 1 vol., with plates.
PROUT ON CHEMISTRY— CHALMERS ON THE MORAL CONDITION OF MAN— WHE WELL

ON ASTRONOMY— BELL ON THE HAND— K1DD ON THE PHYSICAL CONDITION OP

MAN, 2 volumes.
BUCKLAND'S GEOLOGY, 2 vols., with numerous plates and maps.

Roget, Buckland, and Kirby are sold separate.

THE DOMESTIC MANAGEMENT OF THE SICK ROOM,

NECESSARY, IN AID OF MEDICAL TREATMENT, FOR THE CURE OF DISEASES.
BY A. T. THOMSON, M.D.,&c. &c.
First American, from the Second London Edition. Edited by R. E.Griffith, M. D.
In one royal ]2mo. volume, extra cloth, with cuts.
"There is no interference with the duties of the medical attendant, but sound, sensible, mid
dear advice what to do, and how to act, so as to meet unforeseen emergencies, and co-operate
with professional skill."— Literary Gazette.

THE MILLWRIGHT AND MILLER'S GUIDE.

BY OLIVER EVANS.

THE ELEVENTH EDITION,
WITH ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS, BY THE PROFESSOR OF MECHA-
NICS IN THE FRANKLIN INSTITUTE OF PENNSYLVANIA,
AND A DESCRIPTION OF AN IMPROVED MERCHANT FLOUR MILL.

WITH ENGRAVINGS.

BY C. & O. EVANS, ENGINEERS.

This is a practical work, and has had a very extended sale.

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

JOHNSON AND LANDRETH ON FRUIT, KITCHEN,
AND FLOWER GARDENING.

A DICTIONARY OF MODERN GARDENING,

BY GEORGE WILLIAM JOHNSON, ESQ.

Author of the " Principles of Practical Gardening," " The Gardener's Almanac," <5cc.

WITH ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY WOOD-COTS.

EDITED, WITH NUMEROUS ADDITIONS, BY DAVID LANDRETH, OF PHILADELPHIA.

In one large royal duodecimo volume, extra cloth, of nearly Six Hundred and Fifty
double columned Pages.

This edition has been greatly altered from the original. Many articles of little interest to Ameri-
cans have been curtailed or wholly omitted, and much new matter, with numerous illustrations,
added, especially with respect to the varieties of fruit which experience has shown to be peculiarly
adapted to our climate. Still, the editor admits that he has only followed in the path so admirably
marked out by Mr. Johnson, to whom the chief merit of the work belongs. It has been an object
with the editor and publishers to increase its popular character, thereby adapting it to the larger
class of horticultural readers in this country, and they trust it will prove what they have desired it
to be, an Encyclopaedia of Gardening, if not of Rural Affairs, so condensed and at such a price as to
be within reach of nearly all whom those subjects interest.

" This is a useful compendium of all that description of information which is valuable to the
modern gardener. It quotes largely from the best standard authors, journals, and transactions of
societies; and the labours of the American editor have fitted it for the United States, by judicious
additions and omissions. The volume is abundantly illustrated with figures in the text, embracing
a judicious selection of those varieties of fruits which experience has shown to be well suited to the
United States. — SiUiman's Journal.

" This is the most valuable work we have ever seen on the subject of gardening ; and no man of
taste who can devote even a quarter of an acre to horticulture ought to be without it. Indeed la-
dies who merely cultivate flowers wtten-doors, will find this book an excellent and convenient
counsellor. It contains one hundred and eighty wood-cut illustrations, which give a distinct idea
of the fruits and garden-arrangements they are intended to represent.

" Johnson's Dictionary of Gardening, edited by Landreth, is handsomely printed, well-bound, and
sold at a price which puts it within the reach of all who would be likely to buy it.''— Evergreen.

THE COMPLETE FLORIST.

A MANUAL OF GARDENING,

CONTAINING PRACTICAL INSTRUCTION FOR THE MANAGEMENT OF GREENHOUSE
PLANTS, AND FOR THE CULTIVATION OF THE SHRUBBERY— THE FLOWER
GARDEN, AND THE LAWN— WITH DESCRIPTIONS OF THOSE PLANTS
AND TREES MOST WORTHY OF CULTURE IN EACH
DEPARTMENT.

WITH ADDITIONS AND AMENDMENTS,

ADAPTED TO THE CLIMATE OF THE UNITED STATES.
In one small volume. Price only Twenty-five Cents.

THE COMPLETE KITCHEN AND FRUIT GARDENER.

A SELECT MANUAL OF KITCHEN GARDENING,

AND THE CULTURE OF FRUITS,
CONTAINING FAMILIAR DIRECTIONS FOR THE MOST APPROVED PRACTICE IN EACH
DEPARTMENT, DESCRIPTIONS OF MANY VALUABLE FRUITS, AND A
CALENDAR OF WORK TO BE PERFORMED EACH
MONTH IN THE YEAR.

THE WHOLE ADAPTED TO THE CLIMATE OF THE UNITED STATES.
In one small volume, paper. Price only Twenty-five Cents.

LANDRETITS RURAL REGISTER AND ALMANAC, FOR 1848,

WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS.

STILL ON HAND,
A FEW COPIES OF THE REGISTER FOR 1847,

WITH OVER ONE HUNDRED WOOD-CUTS.

This work has 150 large 12mo. pages, double columns. Though published annually, and contain-
insr an almanac, the principal part of the matter is of permanent utility to the horticulturist and
farmer.

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

LAW BOOKS.

HILLIARD ON REAL ESTATE.

NOW READY.

THE AMZSEICAN LAW OP HEAL PROPERTY.

SECOND EDITION, REVISED, CORRECTED, AND ENLARGED.

BY FRANCIS HILLIARD,

COUNSELLOR AT LAW.

In two large octavo volumes, beautifully printed, and bound in best law sheep.

This book is designed as a substitute for Cruise's Digest, occupying the
same ground in American law which that work has long covered in the
English law. It embraces all that portion of the English Law of Real
Estate which has any applicability in this country ; and at the same time it
embodies the statutory provisions and adjudged cases of all the States upon
the same subject ; thereby constituting a complete elementary treatise for
American students and practitioners. The plan of the work is such as to
render it equally valuable in all the States, embracing, as it does, the pecu-
liar modifications of the law alike in Massachusetts and Missouri, New
York and Mississippi. In this edition, the statutes and decisions subse-
quent to the former one, which are very numerous, have all been incorpo-
rated, thus making it one-third larger than the original work, and bringing
the view of the law upon the subject treated quite down to the present time.
The book is recommended in the highest terms by distinguished jurists of
different States, as will be seen by the subjoined extracts.

" The work before us supplies this deficiency in a highly satisfactory manner. It is beyond all
question the best work of the kind that we now have, and although we doubt whether this or any
other work will be likely to supplant Cruise's Digest, we do not hesitate to say, that of the two,
this is the more valuable to the American lawyer. We congratulate the author upon the success-
ful accomplishment of the arduous task he undertook, in reducing the vast body of the American
Law of Real Property to ' portable size,' and we do not doubt that his labours will be duly appre-
ciated by the profession."— Law Reporter, Aug., 1846.

Judge Story says :— "I think the work a very valuable addition to our present stock of juridical
literature. It embraces all that part of Mr. Cruise's Digest which is most useful to American law-
yers. But its liigher value is, that it presents in a concise, but clear and exact form, the substance
of American Law on the same subject. 1 know no work that we possess, whose practical utility is
likely to be so extensively felt." " The wonder is, that the autlior has been able to bring so great a
mass into so condensed a text, at once comprehensive and lucid."

Chancellor Kent says of the work (Commentaries, vol. ii., p. 635, note, 5th edition) : — " It is a work
of great labour and intrinsic value."

Hon. Rufus Choate savs: — "Mr. HilTiard's work has been for three or four years in use, and I
think that Mr. Justice Story and Chancellor Kent express the general opinion of the Massachusetts
Bar."

Professor Greenleaf says :— " I had already found the first edition a very convenient book of refe-
rence, and do not doubt, from the appearance of the second, that it is greatly improved."

Professor J. EL Townsend, of Yale College, says :—

" I have been acquainted for several years with the first edition of Mr. Hilliard's Treatise, and
have formed a very favourable opinion of it. 1 have no doubt the second edition will be found even
more valuable than the first, and I shall be happy to recommend it as I may hnve opportunity. I
know of no other work on the subject of Real Estate, so comprehensive and so we'd adapted to tha
ttato of the law in this country."

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

LAW BOOKS.

ADDISON ON CONTRACTS.

A TREATISE ON THE LAW OF CONTRACTS AND
RIGHTS AND LIABILITIES EX CONTRACTU.

BY C. G. ADDISON, ESQ.,

Of the Inner Temple, Barrister at Law.

In one volume, octavo, handsomely bound in law sheep.

In this treatise upon the most constantly and frequently administered
branch of law, the author has collected, arranged and developed in an intel-
ligible and popular form, the rules and principles of the Law of Contracts,
and has supported, illustrated or exemplified them by references to nearly
four thousand adjudged cases. It comprises the Rights and Liabilities of
Seller and Purchaser ; Landlord and Tenant ; Letter and Hirer of Chattels ;
Borrower and Lender ; Workman and Employer ; Master, Servant and Ap-
prentice ; Principal, Agent and Surety; Husband and Wife; Partners;
Joint Stock Companies ; Corporations ; Trustees ; Provisional Committee-
men ; Shipowners ; Shipmasters ; Innkeepers ; Carriers ; Infants ; Luna-
tics, &c.

WHEATON'S INTERNATIONAL LAW.

ELEMENTS OP INTERNATIONAL LAW.

BY HENRY WHEATON, LL.D.,

Minister of the United States at the Court of Russia, <fcc.
THIRD EDITION, REVISED AND CORRECTED.
In one large and beautiful octavo volume of 650 pages, extra cloth, or fine law sheep.

"Mr. Wheaton's work is indispensable to every diplomatist, statesman and lawyer, and necessary
indeed to all public men. To every philosophic and liberal mind, the study must be an attractivef
and in the hands of our author it is a delightful one."— North American.

HILL ON TRUSTEES.

A PRACTICAL TREATISE ON THE LAW RELATING TO TRUSTEES,

THEIR POWERS, DUTIES, PRIVILEGES AND LIABILITIES.
BY JAMES HILL, ESQ.,

Of the Inner Temple, Barrister at Law.
EDITED BY FRANCIS J. TROUBAT,
Of the Philadelphia Bar.
In one large octavo volume, best law sheep, raised bands.

" The editor begs leave to iterate the observation made by the author that the work is intended
principally for the instruction and guidance of trustees. That single feature very much enhances
its practical value."

ON THE PRINCIPLES OF CRIMINAL LAW.

In one 18mo. volume, paper, price 25 cents.
BEING PART 10, OF "SMALL BOORS ON GREAT SUBJECTS "

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

LAW BOOKS.

SFENCE'S EQUITY JURISDICTION.

THE EQUITABLE JURISDICTION OF THE COURT OF CHANCERY,

COMPRISING

ITS RISE, PROGRESS AND FINAL ESTABLISHMENT.

TO WHICH IS PREFIXED. WITH A VIEW TO THE ELUCIDATION OF THE MAIN SUB-
JECT, A CONCISE ACCOUNT OF THE LEADING DOCTRINES OF THE COMMON
LAW. AND OF THE COURSE OF PROCEDURE LN THE COURTS OF COM- ■
HON LAW, WITH REGARD TO CIVIL, RIGHTS: WITH AN ATTEMPT
TO TRACE THEM TO THEIR SOURCES ; AND LN WHICH
THE VARIOUS ALTERATIONS MADE BY THE
LEGISLATURE DOWN TO THE PRESENT
DAY ARE NOTICED.
BY GEORGE SPENCE, ESQ.,
One of her Majesty's CounseL
IN TWO OCTAVO VOLUMES.
Volume I., embracing the Principles, is now ready. Volume IL is rapidly preparing and will
appear early in IStS. It is based upon the work of Mr. Maddock, brought down to the present
time, and embracing so much of the practice as counsel are called on to advise upon.

A NEW LAW DICTIONAHY,

CONTAINING EXPLANATIONS OF SUCH TECHNICAL TERMS AND PHRASES AS OCCUP
LN THE WORKS OF LEGAL AUTHORS. IN THE PRACTICE OF THE COURTS,
AND LN THE PARLIAMENTA R Y PROCEEDINGS OF THE HOUSE OF LORDS
AND COMMONS, TO WHICH IS ADDED, AN OUTLINE OF AN
ACTION AT LAW AND OF A SUIT LN EQUITY.

BY HENRY JAMES HOLTHOUSE, ESQ.,

Of the Inner Temple, Special Pleader.
EDITED FROM THE SECOND AND ENLARGED LONDON EDITION,

WITH NUMEROUS ADDITIONS,
BY HENRY PENINGTON,

Of the Pluladelphia Bar.

In one large volume, royal 12mo., of about 500 pages, double columns, handsomely

bound in law sheep. ,

■ This is a considerable improvement upon the former editions, being bound with the usual law
binding, and the general execution admirable — the paper excellent, and the printing clear and
beautiful. Its peculiar usefulness, however, consists in the valuable additions above referred to,
being intelligible and well devised definitions of such phrases aud technicalitiss as are peculiar to
the practice in the Courts of this country. — While, therefore, we recommend it especially to the
6tudents of law, as a safe guide through the intricacies of their study, it will nevertheless be found
a valuable acquisition to the library of the practitiouer himself." — Alex. Gazette.

44 This work is intended rather for the general student, than as a substitute for many abridgments,
digests, and dictionaries in use by the professional man. Its object principally is to impress accu-
rately and distinctly upon the mind the meaning of the technical terms of the law, and as such
can hardly fail to be generally useful. There is much curious information to be found in it in re-
gard to the peculiarities of the ancient Saxon law. The additions of the American edition give
increased value to the work, and evince much accuracy and care." — Pennsylvania Law Journal.

TAYLOR'S MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.

A PRACTICAL TREATISE ON MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.

BY ALFRED S. TAYLOR,
Lecturer on Medical Jurisprudence and Chemistry at Guy's Hospital, London.
With numerous Notes and Additions, and References to American Law,
BY R. E. GRIFFITH, M.D.
In one volume, octavo, neat law sheep.

TAYLOR'S MANUAL OF TOXICOLOGY.

IN ONE NEAT OCTAVO VOLUME.

A NEW WORK. SOW READY.

TRAILL'S

OUTLINES OF A COURSE OF LECTURES ON MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.

IN OXE SMALL OCTAVO VOLUME.

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

LAW BOOKS.

E A S T'S REPORTS.

REPORTS OP CASES

ADJUDGED AND DETERMINED IN THE COURT
OF KING'S BENCH.

WITH TABLES OF THE NAMES OF THE CASES AND PRINCIPAL MATTERS.

BY EDWARD HYDE EAST, ESQ.,

Of the Inner Temple, Barrister at Law.

EDITED, WITH NOTES AND REFERENCES,
BY G. M. WHARTOXT, ESQ.,

Of the Philadelphia Bar.

In eight large royal octavo volumes, bound in best law sheep, raised bands and double
titles. Price, to subscribers, only twenty-five dollars.

In this edition of East, the sixteen volumes of the former edition have
been compressed into eight — two volumes in one throughout — but nothing
has been omitted; the entire work will be found, with the notes of Mr.
Wharton added to those of Mr. Day. The great reduction of price, (from
$72, the price of the last edition, to $25, the subscription price of this,)
together with the improvement in appearance, will, it is trusted, procure for
it a ready sale.

A NEW WORK ON COURTS-MARTIAL.

A TREATISE ON AMERICAN MILITARY LAW,

AND THE

PRACTICE OF COURTS. MARTIAL,

WITH SUGGESTIONS FOR THEIR IMPROVEMENT.
BY JOHN O'BRIEN,

LIEUTENANT UNITED BTATES ARTILLERY.

In one octavo volume, extra cloth, or law sheep.
"This work stands relatively to American Military Law in the same position that Blackstone'i
Commentaries stand to Common Law."— U. S. Gazette.

CAMPBELL'S LORD CHANCELLORS.

LIVES OF THE LORD CHANCELLORS AND KEEPERS OF
THE GREAT SEAL OF ENGLAND,

FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES TO THE REIGN OF KING GEORGE IV.,

BY JOHN LORD CAMPBELL, A.M., F.R.S.E.

FIRST SERIES,

In three neat demy octavo volumes, extra cloth,
BRINGING THE WORK TO THE TIME OF JAMES EL, JUST ISSUED.

PREPARING,
SECOND SERIES,

In four volumes, to match,
CONT\rNTNG FROM JAMES II. TO GEORGE IV.

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

YOUATT AND SKINNER'S

STANDARD WORK ON THE HORSE.

THE HORSE.

BY WILLIAM YOUATT.

A NEW EDITION, WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS.

TOGETHER WITH A

GENERAL HISTORY OF THE HORSE;

A DISSERTATION ON

THE AMERICAN TROTTING HORSE;

HOW TRAINED AND JOCKEYED.

AN ACCOUNT OF HIS REMARKABLE PERFORMANCES;

AND

UN ESSAY ON THE ASS AN9 THE MULE,

BY J. S. SKINNER,

Assistant Post-Master-General, and Editor of the Turf Register.

This edition of Youatt's well-known and standard work on the Manage-
ment, Diseases, and Treatment of the Horse, has already obtained such a
wide circulation throughout the country, that the Publishers need say no-
thing to attract to it the attention and confidence of all who keep Horses or
are interested in their improvement.

" In introducing this very neat edition of Youatt's well-known book, on ' The Horse,' to our
readers, it is not necessary, even if we had time, to say anything to convince them of its worth ; it
has been highly spoken of, by those most capable of appreciating its merits, and its appearance
under the patronage of the 'Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge,' with Lord Brougham
at its head, affords a full guaranty for its high character. The book is a very valuable one, and we
endorse the recommendation of the editor, that every man who owns the ' hair of a horse,' should
have it at his elbow, to be consulted like a family physician, ' for mitigating the disorders, and pro-
longing the life of the most interesting and useful of all domestic animals.' " — Farmer's Cabinet.

" This celebrated work has been completely revised, and much of it almost entirely re-written
by its able author, who, from being a practical veterinary surgeon, and withal a great lover and
excellent judge of the animal, is particularly well qualified to write the history of the noblest of
quadrupeds. Messrs. Lea and Blanchard of Philadelphia have republished the above work, omitting
a few of the first pages, and have supplied their place with matter quite as valuable, and perhaps
more interesting to the reader in this country ; it being nearly 100 pages of a general history of the
horse, a dissertation on the American trotting horse, how trained and jockeyed, an account of his
remarkable performances, and an essay on the Ass and Mule, by J. S. Skinner, Esq., Assistant Post-
master-General, and late editor of the Turf Register and American Farmer. Mr. Skinner is one
of our most pleasing writers, and has been familiar with the subject of the horse from childhood,
and we need not add that he has acquitted himself well of the task. He also takes up the import-
ant subject, to the American breeder, of the Ass, and the Mule. This he treats at length and con
amore. The Philadelphia edition of the Horse is a handsome octavo, with numerous wood-cuts."-r
American Agriculturist.

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

YOUATT ON THE PIG.

THE PIG;

A TREATISE ON THE BREEDS, MANAGEMENT, FEEDING,
AND MEDICAL TREATMENT OF SWINE,

WITH DIRECTIONS FOR SALTING PORK, AND CURING BACON AND HAMS.
BY WILLIAM YOUATT, V.S.

Author of "The Horse," "The Dog," "Cattle," " Sheep," <fcc., <tc.

ILLUSTRATED WITH ENGRAVINGS DRAWN* FROM LIFE BY WILLIAM HARVEY.

In one handsome duodecimo volume, extra cloth, or in neat paper cover, price 50 cents.
Tin's work, on a subject comparatively neglected, must prove of much use to farmers, especially
in this country, where the Pig is an animal of more importance than elsewhere. No work has
hitherto appeared treating fully of the various breeds of swine, their diseases and cure, breeding,
fattening, <tc, and the preparation of bacon, salt pork, hams. <fcc., while the name of the author of
" The Horse," " The Cattle Doctor," <tc, is sufficient authority for all he may state. To render it
more accessible to those whom it particularly interests, the publishers have prepared copies in
neat illustrated paper covers, suitable for transmission by mail ; and which will be sent through
the post-office on the receipt of fifty cents, free of postage.

CLATER AND YOUATT'S CATTLE DOCTOR.

EVERY MAN HIS OWN CATTLE DOCTOR:

CONTAINING THE CAUSES, SYMPTOMS AND TREATMENT OF ALL
DISEASES INCIDENT TO OXEN, SHEEP AND SWINE;
AND A SKETCH OF THE

ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY OF NEAT CATTLE.

BY FRANCIS CLATER.

EDITED, REVISED AND ALMOST R E- WRITTEN, BY

WILLIAM YOUATT, AUTHOR OF "THE HORSE."
WITH NUMEROUS ADDITIONS,
EMBRACING AN ESSAY ON THE USE OF OXEN AND THE IMPROVEMENT IN THE
BREED OF SHEEP,
BY J. S. SKINNER.
WITH NUMEROUS CUTS AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
In one 12mo. volume, cloth.
"As its title would import, it is a most valuable work, and should be in the hands of every Ame-
rican farmer ; and we feel proud in saying, that the value of the work has been greatly enhanced
Dy the contributions of Mr. Skinner. Clater and Youatt are names treasured by the farming com-
munities of Europe as household-gods ; nor does thart of Skinner deserve to be less esteemed in
America."— American Farmer.

CLATER'S FARRIER.

EVERY MAN HIS OWN FARRIER:

CONTAINING THE CAUSES, SYMPTOMS, AND MOST APPROVED METHODS OF CURE
OF THE DISEASES OF HORSES.

BIT FRANCIS CLATER,

Author of " Everv Man his own Cattle Doctor,"

AND HIS SON, JOHN CLATER.

FIRST AMERICAN FROM THE TWENTY-EIGHTH LONDON EDITION.

WITH NOTES AND ADDITIONS,

BIT J. S. SKINNER.

In one J2mo. volume, cloth.

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

HAWKER AND PORTER ON SHOOTING.

INSTRUCTIONS TO YOUNG SPORTSMEN
IN ALL THAT RELATES TO GUNS AND SHOOTING.
BY LIEUT. COL. P. HAWKER.

FROM THE ENLARGED A.VO IMPROVED NINTH LONDON EDITION,

TO WHICH IS ADDED THE HUNTING AND SHOOTING OF NORTH AMERICA, WITH
DESCRIPTIONS OF ANIMALS AND BIRDS, CAREFULLY COLLATED
FROM AUTHENTIC SOURCES.
BY W. T. PORTER, ESQ,.

EDITOR OF THE NT. Y. SPIRIT OF THE TIMES.

In one large octavo volume, rich extra cloth, with numerous Illustrations.

" Here is a book, a hand-book, or rather a text-book — one that contains the whole routine of the
science. It is the Primer, the Lexicon, and the Homer. Everything is here, from the minutest
portion of a gun-lock, to a de-id BuiFalo. The sportsman who reads this book understanding, may
pass an examination. He will know the science, and may srive advice to others. Every sportsman,
and sportsmen are plentiful, should own this work. It should be a " vade mecum." He should
be examined on its contents, and estimated by his abilities to answer. We have not been without
treatises on the art, but hitherto they have not descended into all the minutiie of equipments and
qualifications to proceed to the completion. This work supplies deficiencies, and completes the
sportsman's library."— U. S. Gazette.

"No man in the country that we wot of is so well calculated as our friend of the ' Spirit' for the
task he has undertaken, and the result of his labours has been that he has turned out a work which
should be in the hands of every man in the land who owns a double-barrelled gun." — N. O. Picayune.

u A volume splendidly printed and bound, and embellished with numerous beautuul engravings,
which will doubtless be in ;rreat demand. No sportsman, indeed, ought to be without it, while the
general reader will find in its pages a fund of curious and useful information." — Riclunond Whig.

THE DOG,

BY WILLIAM Y O U A T T,

Author of " The Horse," etc.
WITH NUMEROUS AND BEAUTIFUL ILLUSTRATIONS.
EDITED BY E. J. LEWIS, M. D. &c. &c.

In one beautifully printed volume, crown octavo.
LIST OF PLATES.
Head of Bloodhound— Ancient Greyhounds— The Thibei Dog— The Dinsro, or New Holland Dog—
The Danish or Dalmatian Dog — The Hare Indian Dog — The Grevliound — The Grecian Greynouud
—Blenheims and Cockers— The Water Spaniel— The Poodle— The Alpine Spaniel or Bernardino
Dog — The Newfoundland Dog — The Esquimaux Dog — The English Sheep Dog — The Scotch Sheep
Dog — The Beasle — The Harrier — The Foxhound— Plan of Goodwood Kennel — The Southern
Hound— The Setter— The Pointer— The Bull Dog— The Mastui— The Terrier— Skeleton of the
Dog — Teeth of the Dog at seven different ages.

" Mr. Youatt's work is invaluable to the student of canine history; it is full of entertaining ani
instructive matter for the general reader. To the sportsman it commends itself by the large amount
of useful information in reference to his peculiar pursuits which it embodies — information which
he cannot find elsewhere in so convenient and accessible a form, and with so reliable an authority
to entitle it to his consideration. The modest preface which Dr. Lewis has made to the American
ediiion of this work scarcely does justice to the additional value he has imparted to it; and the
publishers are entitled to great credit for the handsome maimer in which they have got it up."—
North American.

THE SPORTSMAN'S LIBRARY,

OR HINTS ON HUNTERS, HUNTING, HOUNDS, SHOOTLNG, GAME, DOGS, GUNS,
FiSHTNG, COURSiNG, ic, Sec.
BY JOHN MILLS, ESQ.,
Author of " The Old English Gentleman," <tc.
In one well printed royal duodecimo volume, extra cloth.

STABLE TALK AND TABLE TALK,

OR SPECTACLES FOR VOUNG SPORTSMEN.
BY HARRY HIEOVER.
In one very neat duodecimo volume, extra cloth.
"These lively sketches answer to their title very well. Wherever Nimrod is welcome, there
should be cordial greeting for Harry Hieover. His book is a very clever one, and contains many
instructive hints, as well as much light-hearted reading." — Examiner.

THE DO&AND THE SPOHTSKAN,

EMBRACING THE USES, BRECDTNG. TRAINING, DISEASES, ETC., OF DOGS. AND AN
ACCOUNT OF THF DIFFERENT KINDS OF GAME, WITH THEIR HABITS.
Also, Hints to Shooters, with various useful Recipes, &c, &c.
BY J. S. SKINNER.

With Plates. In one very neat 12mo. volume, Nctra cl-jth.

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

FR AN CATELLI'S MODERN FRENCH COOKERY.

THE MODERN COOK,

A PRACTICAL GUTDE TO THE CULINARY ART, IN ALL ITS BRANCHES, ADAPTED AS
WELL FOR THE LARGEST ESTABLISHMENTS AS FOR THE USE
OF PRIVATE FAMILIES.

BY CHARLES ELME FRANC ATE LLI,

Pupil of the celebrated Careme, and late Maitre D'Hotel and Chief Cook to her Majesty the Queen.
In one large octavo volume, extra cloth, with numerous illustrations.

" It appears to be the book of books on cookery, being a most comprehensive treatise on that art
preservative and conservative. The work comprises, in one large and elegant octavo volume, 1447
recipes for cooking dishes and desserts, with numerous illustrations ; also bills of fare and direc-
tions for dinners for every month jn the year, for companies of six persons to twenty-eight. — Nat
Inteliigencer.

" The ladies who read our Magazine, will thank us for calling attention to this great work on the
noble science of cooking, in which everybody, who has any taste, feels a deep and abiding interest.
Francatelli is the Plato, the Shakspeare, or the Napoleon of his department; or perhaps the La
Place, for his performance bears the same relation to ordinary cook books that the Mecanique
Celeste does to Daboll's Arithmetic. It is a large octavo, profusely illustrated, and contains every-
thing on the philosophy of making dinners, suppers, etc., that is worth knowing.— Graham's Magazine.

MODERN COOKERY IN ALL ITS BRANCHES,

REDUCED TO A SYSTEM OF EASY PRACTICE. FOR THE USE OF PRIVATE FAMILIES.
LN A SERIES OF PRACTICAL RECEIPTS. ALL OF WHICH ARE GIVEN
WITH THE MOST MINUTE EXACTNESS.

BY ELIZA ACTON.

WITH NUMEROUS WOOD-CUT ILLUSTRATIONS.
TO WHICH IS ADDED, A TABLE OF WEIGHTS AND MEASURES.

THE WHOLE REVISED AND PREPARED FOR AMERICAN HOUSEKEEPERS.

BY MRS. SARAH J. HALE.
From the Second London Edition. In one large 12mo. volume.
" Miss Eliza Acton may congratulate herself on having composed a work of great utility, and one
that is speedily finding its way to every ' dresser" in the kingdom. Her Cookery-book is unques*
tionably the most valuable compendium of the art that has yet been published. It strongly incul-
cates economical principles, and points out how good things may be concocted without that reck-
less extravagance which good cooks have been wont to imagine the best evidence they can give of
skill in their profession." — London Morning Post.

PLAIN AND PRACTICAL DIRECTIONS FOR COOKING AND HOUSEKEEPING,

WITH UPWARDS OF SEVEN HUNDRED RECEIPTS,

Consisting of Directions for the Choice of Meat and Poultry, Preparations for Cooking ; Making of
Broths and Soups ; Boiling, Roasting, Baking and Frying of Meats, Fish, <fec. ; Seasonings,
Colorings, Cooking Vegetables; Preparing Salads ; Clarifying; Making of Pastry,
Puddings, Gruels, Gravies, Garnishes, <fcc.. <tc, and with general
Directions for making Wines.
WITH ADDITIONS AND ALTERATIONS.
BY J. M. SANDERSON,

OF THE FRANKLIN HOUSE.

In one small volume, paper. Price only Twenty-five Cents.

THE COMPLETE CONFECTIONER, PASTRY COOK AND BAKER.

PLAIN AND PRACTICAL DIRECTIONS

FOR MAKING CONFECTIONARY AND PASTRY, AND FOR BAKING.

WITH UPWARDS OF FIVE HUNDRED RECEIPTS,

Consisting of Directions for making all sorts of Preserves, Sugar Boiling, Comfits, Lozenges,
Ornamental Cakes, Ices, Liqueurs, Waters, Gum Paste Ornaments, Syrups, Jellies,
Marmalades, Compotes, Bread Baking, Artificial Yeasts, Fancy

Biscuits, Cakes, Rolls, Muflins, Tarts, Pies, &c, &c.
WITH ADDITIONS AND ALTERATIONS.
BY PARKINSON,

PRACTICAL CONFECTIONER, CHESTNUT STREET.

In one small volume, paper. Price only Twenty-five Cent*.

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

SMALL BOOKS ON GREAT SUBJECTS.

A SERIES OF WORKS

WHICH DESERVE THE ATTENTION OF THE PUBLIC, FROM THE VARIETY AND
IMPORTANCE OF THEIR SUBJECTS, AND THE CONCISENESS AND
STRENGTH WITH WHICH THEY ARE WRITTEN.
They form a neat ISmo. series, in paper, or strongly done up in three neat volumes, extra cloth.

THERE ARE ALREADY PUBLISHED,
No. 1.— PHILOSOPHICAL THEORIES AND PHTXOSOPHICAL EXPERIENCE.

2. — ON THE CONNEXION BETWEEN PHYSIOLOGY AND INTELLECTUAL SCIENCE.

3. — ON MAN'S POWER OVER HIMSELF, TO PREVENT OR CONTROL INSANITY.
4— AN INTRODUCTION TO PRACTICAL ORGANIC CHEMISTRY, WITH REFER-
ENCES TO THE WORKS OF DAVY, BRANDE, LIEBIG, <kc.

5. — A BRIEF VIEW OF GREEK PHILOSOPHY UP TO THE AGE OF PERICLES.

6. — GREEK PHILOSOPHY FROM THE AGE OF SOCRATES TO THE COMING OF

CHRIST.

7. — CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE AND PRACTICE LN THE SECOND CENTURY.

8— AN EXPOSITION OF VULGAR AND COMMON ERRORS, ADAPTED TO THE YEAR

OF GRACE MDCCCXLV
9. — AN INTRODUCTION TO VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, WITH REFERENCES TO

THE WORKS OF DE CANDOLLE, LLNDLEY, <tc.
10.— ON THE PRINCIPLES OF CRIMINAL LAW.
1] .—CHRISTIAN SECTS LN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.
12.— THE GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF GRAMMAR.
" We are glad to find that Messrs. Lea & Blanchard are reprinting, for a quarter of their original
price, this admirable series of little books, which have justly attracted so much attention in Great
Britain."— Graham's Magazine.

" The writers of these thoughtful treatises are not labourers for hire ; they are men who have
stood apart from the throng, and marked the movements of the crowd, the tendencies of society,
its evils and its errors, and, meditating upon them, have given their thoughts to the thoughtful."—
London Critic.

"A series of little volumes, whose worth is not at all to be estimated by their size or price. They
are written in England by scholars of eminent ability, whose design is to call the attention of the
public to various important topics, in a novel and accessible mode of publication." — N. Y. Morning
News.

MACKINTOSH'S DISSERTATION ON THE PROGRESS
OF ETHICAL PHILOSOPHY,

WITH A PREFACE BY

THE REV. WILLIAM WHEWELL, M. A.
In one neat 8vo. vol., extra cloth.

OVERLAND JOURNEY ROUND THE WORLD,

DURING THE YEARS 1841 AND 1842,
BY SIR GEORGE SIMPSON,

GOVERNOR-TN-CHIEF OF THE HUDSON'S BAY COMPANY'S TERRITORIES.
In one very neat crown octavo volume, rich extra crimson cloth, or in two
parts, paper, price 75 cents each.

"A more valuable or instructive work, or one more full of perilous adventure and heroic enter-
prise, we have never met with."— John Bull.

" It abounds with details of the deepest interest, possesses all the charms of an exciting: romance
and fvunisheB an immense mass of valuable information."— Inquirer.

LEA AND BL AN CHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

UNITED STATES EXPLORING EXPEDITION.

THE NARRATIVE OF THE

UNITED STATES EXPLORING EXPEDITION,

DURING THE YEARS 1838, '39, '40, 41, AND '42.
BY CHARLES WILKES, ESQ,., U. S.N.

COMMANDER OF THE EXPEDITION. ETC.

PRICE TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS.

A New Edition, in Five Medium Octavo Volumes, neat Extra Cloth, particularly done
up with reference to strength and continued use: containing Twenty Six Hun-
dred Pages of Letter-press. Illustrated with Maps, and about Three

Hundred Splendid Engravings on Wood.
PRICE ONLY TWO DOLLARS A VOLUME.

Though offered at a price so low, this is the complete work, containing all the letter-press of the
edition printed for Congress, with some improvements suggested in the course of passing the work
again through the press. All of the wood-cut illustrations are retained, and nearly all the maps ;
the large steel plates of the quarto edition being omitted, and neat wood-cuts substituted for forty-
seven steel vignettes. It is printed on fine paper, with large type, bound in very neat extra cloth,
and forms a beautiful work, with its very numerous and appropriate embellishments.

The attention of persons forming libraries is especially directed to this work, as presenting the
novel and valuable matter accumulated by the Expedition in a cheap, convenient, and readable form.

SCHOOL and other PUBLIC LIBRARIES should not be without it. as embodying the results of
the First Scientific Expedition commissioned by our government to explore foreign regions.

"We have no hesitation in saying that it is destined to stand among the most enduring monu-
ments of our national literature. Its contributions not only to every department of science, but
every department of history, are immense ; and there is not an intelligent man in the community —
no matter what may be his taste, or his occupation, but will find something here to enlighten, to
gratify, and to profit him." — Albany Religious Spectator.

ANOTHER EDITION.
PRICE TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS.

IN FIVE MAGNIFICENT IMPERIAL OCTAVO VOLUMES'

WITH AN ATLAS OF LARGE AND EXTENDED MAPS.

BEAUTIFULLY DONE UP IN EXTRA CLOTH.
This truly great and National Work is issued in a style of superior magnificence
and beauty, containing Sixty-four large and finished Line Engravings, embracing
Scenery, Portraits, Manners, Customs, &c, &c. Forty-seven exquisite Steel Vignettes,
worked among the letter-press; about Two Hundred and Fifty finely-executed Wood-
cut Illustrations, Fourteen large and small Maps and Charts, and nearly Twenty-six
Hundred pages of Letter-press.

ALSO, A FEW COPIES STILL ON HAND.

THE EDITION PRINTED FOR CONGRESS,

IN FIVE VOLUMES, AND AN ATLAS.

LARGE IMPERIAL QUARTO, STRONG EXTRA CLOTH.
PRICE SIXTY DOLLARS.

JUST ISSUED,

THE ETHNOGRAPHY AND PHILOLOGY OF THE UNITED
STATES EXPLORING EXPEDITION,

UNDER THE COMMAND OF CHARLES WILKES, ESQ., U. S. NAVY.
BY HORATIO HALE,

PHILOLOGIST TO THE EXPEDITION.

in one large imperial octavo volume of nearly seven hundred pages. With two Maps, printed to
match the Congress copies of the " Narrative."

Price ten dollars, in beautiful extra cloth, done up with great strength.

*** This is the only edition printed, and but few are offered for sale.

The remainder of the scientific works of the Expedition are in a state of rapid progress. Tha
volume on Corals, by J. D. Dana, Esq., with an Atlas of Plates, will be shortly ready, to be fol-
lowed by the others.

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

DON QUIXOTE— ILLUSTRATED EDITION.

NEARLY READY.

DON QUIXOTE DE LA MANCHA,

TRANSLATED FROM THE SPANISH OP

MIGUEL DE CERVANTES SAAVEDRA,

BY CHARLES JARVIS, ESQ.

CAREFULLY REVISED AND CORRECTED, WITH A MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR AND
NOTICE OF HIS WORKS.

WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS,

BY TONY JOHANNOT.

In two beautifully printed volumes, crown octavo, rich extra crimson cloth.-

The publishers are happy in presenting to the admirers of Don Quixote an edition of that work
in some degTee worthy of its reputation and popularity. The want of such a one has long been felt
in this country, and in presenting this, they have only to express their hope that it may meet the
numerous demands and inquiries. The translation is that by Jarvis, which is acknowledged supe-
rior in both force and fidehty to all others. It has in some few instances been slightly altered to adapt
it better to modern readers, or occasionally to suit it to the inimitable designs of Tony Johannot.
These latter are admitted to be the only successful pictorial exponents of the wit and humor ol
Cervantes, and a choice selection of them have been engraved in the best manner. A copious
memoir of the author and his works has been added by the editor. The volumes are printed in
large clear type, on fine paper, and hanilsomely bound, and the whole is confidently offered as
wormy ine approbation ot all readers of this imperishable romance.

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

PICCIOLA.

ILLUSTRATED EDITION.

PICCIOLA, THE PRISONER OF FENESTRELLA;

OR, CAPTIVITY CAPTIVE.
BY X. B. SAINTINE.

A NEW EDITION, WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.
In one elegant duodecimo volume, large type, and fine paper; price in fancy covers
50 cents, or in beautiful extra crimson cloth.
" Perhaps the most beautiful and touching work of fiction ever written, with the exception of
Undine."— Atlas.

" The same publishers have shown their patriotism, common sense, and good taste by putting
forth their fourth edition of this work, with a set of very beautiful engraved embellishments. There
never was a book which better deserved the compliment. It is one of greatly superior merit to
Paul and Virginia, and we believe it is destined to surpass that popular work of St. Pierre in popu-
larity. It is better suited to the advanced ideas of the present age, and possesses peculiar moral
charms in which Paul and Virginia is deficient. St. Pierre's work derived its popularity from its
bold attack on feudal prejudices; Samtine's strikes deeper, and assails the secret infidelity which
is the bane of modern societv. in its stronghold. A thousand editions of Picciola will not be too
many for its merit."— Lady's Book.

" This is a little gem of its kind — a beautiful conceit, beautifully unfolded and applied. The style
and plot of this truly charming story require no criticism ; we will only express the wish that those
who rely on works of fiction for their intellectual food, may always find those as pure in language
and beautiful in moral as Picciola." — New York Review.

" The present edition is got up in beautiful style, with illustrations, and reflects credit upon the
publishers. We recommend to those of our readers who were not fortunate enough to meet with
Picciola some years ago, when it was first translated, and for a season all the rage, to lose no time
in procuring it now — and to those who read it then, but do not possess a copy, to embrace the op-
portunity of supplying themselves from the present very excellent edition." — Saturday Evening Fosl.

"A new edition of this exquisite story has recently been issued by Messrs. Lea & Blanchard,
embellished and illustrated in the most elegant manner. We understand that the work was com-
pletely out of print, and a new edition will then be welcomed. It contains a delightful letter from
the author, giving a painful insight into the personal history of the characters who figure in the
Story." — Evening Bulletin.

" The most charming work we have read for many a day."— Richmond Enquirer.

LOVER'S RORY O'MORE.

RORY O'MORE-A NATIONAL ROMANCE,

BY SAMUEL LOVER.
A new and cheap edition, with Illustrations by the Author. Price only 25 cents.
Also, a beautiful edition in royal 12ino., price 50 cents, to match the following.
"A truly Irish, national, and characteristic story." — London Literary Gazette.
u Mr. Lover has here produced his best work of fiction, which will survive when half the Irish
sketches with which the literary world teems are forgotten. The interest we take in the varied
adventures of Rory is never once sull'ered to abate. We welcome him with high delight, and
part from him with regret."— London Sun.

LOVER'S IRISH STORIES.

LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND,

BY SAMUEL LOVER.
In one very neat 12mo. volume, fine paper, extra cloth or fancy parer,
With Illustrations by the Author.

LOVER'S SONGS AN D BALLADS,

INCLUDING THOSE OF THE "IRISH EVENINGS."

In one neat 12mo. volume, price 25 cents.

MARSTON,

OR THE MEMOIRS OF A STATESMAN AND SOLDIER,

BY THE REV. GEORGE CROLY,
Author of " Salathiel," " Angel of the World," &c.
In one octavo volume, paper, price fifty cents,
work of high character and absorbing interest."— New Orleans Bee.

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

BIOGRAPHY AND POETICAL REMAINS

OF THE LATE

MARGARET MILLER DAVIDSON.

BY WASHINGTON IRVING.

A NEW EDITION, REVISED.

POETICAL REMAINS

OF THE LATE

LUC RET I A IVZARIA DAVIDSON.

COLLECTED AND ARRANGED BY HER MOTHER, WITH A BIOGRAPHY BY
MISS SEDGWICK

A NEW EDITION, REVISED.

SELECTIONS FROM THE

WRITINGS OF MRS. MARGARET M. DAVIDSON,

THE MOTHER OF LUCRETIA AND MARGARET.

WITH A PREFACE BY MISS SEDGWICK.
The above three works are done up to match in a neat duodecimo form, fancy paper, price fifty
eents each ; or in extra cloth.

THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS,

WITH ILLUSTRATIVE POETRY; TO WHICH ARE NOW ADDED THE
CALENDAR OF FLOWERS, AND THE DIAL OF FLOWERS.

SEVENTH AMERICAN, FROM THE NINTH LONDON EDITION.

Revised by the Editor of the " Forget-Me-Not."

In one very neat 18mo. volume, extra crimson cloth, gilt. With six colored Plates.

CAMPBELL'S POETICAL WORKS,

THE ONLY COMPLETE AMERICAN EDITION,

WITH A MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR BY IRVING, AND AN
ESSAY ON HIS GENIUS BY JEFFREY.

In one beautiful crown octavo volume, extra cloth, or calf gilt : with a Portrait and 12 Plates.

KEBLE'S CHRISTIAN YEAR,

EDITED BY THE RIGHT REV. BISHOP DOANE.

Miniature Edition, in 32mo., extra cloth, with Illuminated Title.

RELIGIO MEDICI, AND ITS SEQUEL, CHRISTIAN MORALS,

BY SIR THOMAS BROWNE, KT.,

WITH RESEMBLANT PASSAGES FROM COWPER'S TASK.
In one neat ]2mo. volume.

HEMANS'S COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS,

IN. SEVEN VOLUMES, ROYAL 12MO., PAPER OR CLOTH.

ROGERS'S POEMS,

ILLUSTRATED,
IN ONE IMPERIAL OCTAVO VOLUME, EXTRA CLOTH OR WHITE CALF.

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

DICKENS'S WORKS.

VARIOUS EDITIONS AND PRICES.

CHEAPEST EDITION IN NINE PARTS PAPER,

AS FOLLOWS:

THE PICKWICK PAPERS, 1 large vol. 8vo., paper, price 50 cents.
OLIVER TWIST, 1 vol. 8vo., paper, price 25 cents.
SKETCHES OF E VERY-DAY-LIFE, 1 vol. 8vo., paper, price 37£ cents.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY, 1 large vol. 8vo., paper, price 50 cents.
THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP, 1 vol. 8vo., paper, with many Cuts,
price 50 cents.

BARNABY RUDGE, 1 vol. 8vo., with many Cuts, price 50 cents.
MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT, 1 vol. 8vo., with plates, price 50 cents.
CHRISTMAS STORIES.— The Carol, The Chimes, The Cricket on

the Hearth, and The Battle of Life — together with Pictures from

Italy, 1 vol. 8vo., price 37$ cents.

DOMBEY AND SON, Part I., to be completed in Two Parts, price 25
cents each.

Forming a neat and uniform Edition of these popular works. Any work sold separately.

ALSO ,

A UNIFORM AND CHEAP EDITION OF

DICKENS'S NOVELS AND TALES,

IN THREE LARGE VOLUMES.

THE NOVELS AND TALES OF CHARLES DICKENS,

(BOZ,)

In Three large and beautiful Octavo Volumes, done up in Extra Cloth,

CONTAINING!- ABOUT TWENTY-TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY LARGE DOUBLE
COLUMNED PAGES.
PRICE FOR THE WHOLE, ONLY THREE DOLLARS AND SEVENTY-FIVE CENTS.

The frequent inquiries for a uniform, compact and good edition of Boz's works, have induced the
publishers to prepare one, which they now offer at a price so low that it should command a very
extended sale. It is printed on fine white paper, with good type, and forms three large volumes,
averaging about seven hundred and fifty pages each, done up in various styles of extra cloth, making
a beautiful and portable edition.— Some of the works are illustrated with Wood Engravings.

This Edition comprehends the first seven parts, and will be completed with the issue of the
Fourth Volume, on the completion of "Dombey and Son," now in progress of publication, con-
taining that work, the " Christmas Stories," and " Pictures from Italy." Purchasers may thus rely
on being able to perfect their sets.

ALSO, AN EDITION PROFUSELY ILLUSTRATED WITH

ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FOUR PLATES, AND ONE
HUNDRED AND FORTY WOOD-CUTS.
In Imperial octavo, extra cloth, on fine white paper.

tCFThe above are the only Complete and Uniform Editions of Dickens's Works now
before the public.

NOW PUBLISHING,

DOMBEY AND SON.

PINE EDITION.

In twenty numbers, price 8 cents each, with two illustrations by Hablot

K. Browne in each number.
ThiB is the only edition which presents the plates accompanying the text to which they refer.

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

SELECT WORKS OF FIELDING AND SMOLLETT,

Printed in a neat and uniform style, to match the cheap edition of Dickens's Works.

SELECT WORKS OF TOBIAS SMOLLETT,

WITH A MEMOIR OF HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS,
BY SIR WALTER SCOTT.

THIS EDITION CONTAINS:
THE ADVENTURES OF RODERICK RANDOM. Price twenty-five cents.
THE ADVENTURES OF PEREGRINE PICKLE. Price fifty cents.
THE EXPEDITION OF HUMPHREY CLINKER. Price twenty-five cents.
THE ADVENTURES OF FERDINAND COUNT FATHOM. Price twenty-five cents.
THE ADVENTURES OF SIR LAUNCELOT GREAVES, THE HISTORY AND ADVENTURES
OF AN ATOM, AND SELECT POEMS. Price twenty-five cents.

Or, the whole done up in one very large octavo volume, extra cloth.

SELECT WORKS OF HENRY FIELDING,

WITH A MEMOIR OF HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS,
BY SIR WALTER SCOTT,

AND AN ESSAY ON HIS LIFE AND GENIUS,

BY ARTHUR MURPHY, ESQ.
THIS EDITION CONTAINS:
TOM JONES, OR THE HISTORY OF A FOUNDLING. Price fifty cents.
THE ADVENTURES OF JOSEPH ANDREWS, AND HIS FRIEND MR. ABRAHAM ADAMS.

Price fifty cents.
AMELIA. Price twenty-five cents.

THE LIFE OF JONATHAN WILD THE GREAT. Price twenty-five cents.

Or, the whole in one large octavo volume, extra cloth.

coomrsl^

A UNIFORM EDITION,

IN TWENTY-THREE LARGE DUODECIMO VOLUMES,

WELL BOUND IN SHEEP GILT,

Forming a beautiful series, each volume comprehending a novel.

ALSO, A CHEAP EDITION,

IN FORTY-SIX VOLUMES, DUODECIMO,!

DONE UP IN NEAT PAPER COVERS.

Price only twenty-five cents a volume, each work in two volumes. Any novel
sold separate.

comprising:

THE SPV — THE WATERWTTCH— HEIDENMAUER — PRECAUTION — HOMEWARD BOUND
— HOME AS FOUND — THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS — THE HEADSMAN— THE TWO
ADMIRALS— THE PIONEERS— THE PILOT— LIONEL LINCOLN— THE PATHFINDER—
THE WISH-TON-WISH— MERCEDES OF CASTILE— THE MON IX INS — THE BRAVO—
THE DEERS LAYER— THE PRAIRIE — THE RED ROVER— WING AND WIN G — WYAN-
DOTTE, OR THE HUTTED KNOLL; AND THE TRAVELING BACHELOR.

ALSO, NED MYERS ; OR, A LIFE BEFORE THE MAST,

In one 12mo. volume. Price twenty-five cents.

ALSO, COOPER'S SEA TALES,

In six neat volumes, royal 12mo., extra cloth.

COOPER'S LEATHER STOCKING TALES,

In five neat volumes, royal 12mo., extra cloth.

LEA AND BLANCHARD'S PUBLICATIONS.

BOY'S TREASURY OF SPORTS.

THE BOY'S TREASURY OF SPORTS, PASTIMES AND RECREATIONS.

WITH FOUR HUNDRED ILLUSTRATIONS,
BY SAMUEL WILLIAMS.

IS NOW READY.

In one very neat volume, bound in extra crimson cloth; handsomely printed and
illustrated with engravings in the first style of art, and containing
about six hundred and fifty articles. A present for all seasons.

PREFACE.

This illustrated Manual of" Sports. Pastimes, and Recreations," has been prepared with especial
regard to the Health, Exercise, and Rational Enjoyment of the young readers to whom it is ad-
dressed.

Every variety of commendable Recreation will be found in the following pages. First, you have
the little Toys of the Nursery ; the Tops and Marbles of the Play-ground ; and the Balls of the
Play-room, or the smooth Lawn.

Then, you have a number of Pastimes that serve to gladden the fireside ; to light up many faces
right joyfully, and make the parlour re-echo with mirth.

Next, come the Exercising Sports of the Field, the Green, and the Play-ground ; followed by
the noble and truly English same of Cricket.

Gymnastics are next admitted ; then, the delightful recreation of Swimming ; and the healthful
sport of Skating.

Archery, once the pride of England, is then detailed ; and very properly followed by Instructions
in the graceful accomplishment of Fenem?. and the manly and enlivening exercise of Riding.

Angling, the pastime of childhood, boyhood, manhood, and old age, is next described ; and by
attention to the instructions here laid down, the lad with a stick and a string may soon become an
expert Angler.

Keeping Animals is a favourite pursuit of boyhood. Accordindy, we have described how to rear
the Rabbit, the Squirrel, the Dormouse, the Guinea Pig, the Pigeon, and the Silkworm. A long
chapter is adapted to the rearing of Song Birds ; the several varieties of which, and their respective
cages, are next described. And here we may hint, that kindness to Animals invariably denotes an
excellent disposition ; for, to pet a little creature one hour, and to treat it harshly the next, marks
a capricious if not a cruel temper. Humanity is a jewel, which every boy should be proud to wear
in his breast.

We now approach the more sedate amusements — as Draughts and Chess ; two of the noblest
exercises of the ingenuity of the human mind. Dominoes and Bagatelle follow. With a know-
ledge of those four games, who would pass a dull hour in the dreariest day of winter; or who
would sit idly by the fire T

Amusements in Arithmetic, harmless Legerdemain, or sleieht-of-hand, and Tricks with Cards,
will delight many a family circle, when the business of the day is over, and the book is laid aside.

Although the present volume is a book of amusements, Science has not been excluded from its
pages. And why should it be ] when Science is as entertaining as a fairy tale. The changes we
read of in little nursery-books are not more amusing than the chansres in Chemistry, Optics, Elec-
tricity, Magnetism, &c. By understanding these, you may almost become a little Magician.

Toy Balloons and Paper Fireworks, (or Fireworks without Fire,) come next. Then follow In-
structions for Mooeihng in Card-Board ; so that you may build for yourself a palace or a carriage,
and, in short, make for yourself a little paper world.

Puzzles and Paradoxes, Enigmas and Kiddles, and Taikin? with the Finsrers, next make up plenty
of exercise for *' Guess," and " Guess again." And as vou have the " Keys" in your own hand, yoa
may keep your friends in suspense, and make yourself as mysterious as the Sphynx.

A chapter of Miscellanies — useful and amusing secrets — winds up the volume.

The " Treasury" contains upwards ol four hundred Engravings ; so that it is not only a collection
of "secrets worth knowing," but it is a book of pictures, as full of prints as a Christmas pudding
is of plums.

It maybe as well to mention that the "Treasury" holds many new games that have never
before been printed in a book of this kind. The old games have been described afresh. Thus it
is, altogether, a new book.

And now we take leave, wishing you many hours, and days, and weeks of enjoyment over these
pages ; and we hope that you may be as happy as tlus book is brunful of amosemeiit.

Internet Archive Audio

Featured

Top

Images

Featured

Top

Software

Featured

Top

Books

Featured

Top

Video

Featured

Top

Mobile Apps

Browser Extensions

Archive-It Subscription

Save Page Now

Full text of "Household education"

See other formats