These parents, whom I myself saw, are very clever people, and the wife singularly industrious and expert in her affairs.

271. Now the _motive_, in this case, unquestionably was good; it was that the mother's valuable time might, as much as possible, be devoted to the earning of a competence for her children. But, alas! what is this competence to these two unfortunate beings! And what is the competence to the rest, when put in the scale against the mortification that they must, all their lives, suffer on account of the insanity of their brother and sister, exciting, as it must, in all their circle, and even in _themselves_, suspicions of their own perfect soundness of mind! When weighed against this consideration, what is all the wealth in the world!

And as to the parents, where are they to find compensation for such a calamity, embittered additionally, too, by the reflection, that it was in their power to prevent it, and that nature, with loud voice, cried out to them to prevent it! MONEY! Wealth acquired in consequence of this banishment of these poor children; these victims of this, I will not call it avarice, but over-eager love of gain! wealth, thus acquired!

What wealth can console these parents for the loss of reason in these children! Where is the father and the mother, who would not rather see their children ploughing in other men's fields, and sweeping other men's houses, than led about parks or houses of their own, objects of pity even of the menials procured by their wealth?

272. If what I have now said be not sufficient to deter a man from suffering _any_ consideration, _no matter what_, to induce him to _delegate_ the care of his children, when very young, to _any body whomsoever_, nothing that I can say can possibly have that effect; and I will, therefore, now proceed to offer my advice with regard to the management of children when they get beyond the danger of being crazed or killed by nurses or servants.

273. We here come to the subject of _education_ in the _true sense_ of that word, which is _rearing up_, seeing that the word comes from the Latin _educo_, which means to _breed up_, or to _rear up_. I shall, afterwards, have to speak of _education_ in the now common acceptation of the word, which makes it mean, _book-learning_. At present, I am to speak of _education_ in its true sense, as the French (who, as well as we, take the word from the Latin) always use it. They, in their agricultural works, talk of the 'education du Cochon, de l'Alouette, &c.,' that is of the _hog_, the _lark_, and so of other animals; that is to say, of the manner of breeding them, or rearing them up, from their being little things till they be of full size.

274. The first thing, in the rearing of children, who have pa.s.sed from the baby-state, is, as to the _body_, plenty of _good food_; and, as to the _mind_, constant _good example in the parents_. Of the latter I shall speak more by-and-by. With regard to the former, it is of the greatest importance, that children be well fed; and there never was a greater error than to believe that they do not need good food. Every one knows, that to have fine horses, the _colts_ must be kept well, and that it is the same with regard to all animals of every sort and kind. The fine horses and cattle and sheep all come from the _rich pastures_. To have them fine, it is not sufficient that they have _plenty of food_ when young, but that they have _rich food_. Were there no land, no pasture, in England, but such as is found in Middles.e.x, Ess.e.x, and Surrey, we should see none of those coach-horses and dray-horses, whose height and size make us stare. It is the _keep when young_ that makes the fine animal.

275. There is no other reason for the people in the American States being generally so much taller and stronger than the people in England are. Their forefathers went, for the greater part, from England. In the four Northern States they went wholly from England, and then, on their landing, they founded a new London, a new Falmouth, a new Plymouth, a new Portsmouth, a new Dover, a new Yarmouth, a new Lynn, a new Boston, and a new Hull, and the country itself they called, and their descendants still call, NEW ENGLAND. This country of the best and boldest seamen, and of the most moral and happy people in the world, is also the country of the tallest and ablest-bodied men in the world. And why? Because, from their very birth, they have an _abundance_ of _good_ food; not only of _food_, but of _rich_ food. Even when the child is at the breast, a strip of _beef-stake_, or something of that description, as big and as long as one's finger, is put into its hand. When a baby gets a thing in its hand, the first thing it does is to poke some part of it into its mouth. It cannot _bite_ the meat, but its gums squeeze out the juice. When it has done with the breast, it eats meat constantly twice, if not thrice, a day. And this abundance of _good_ food is the cause, to be sure, of the superior size and strength of the people of that country.

276. Nor is this, in any point of view, an unimportant matter. A tall man is, whether as labourer, carpenter, bricklayer, soldier or sailor, or almost anything else, _worth more_ than a short man: he can look over a higher thing; he can reach higher and wider; he can move on from place to place faster; in mowing gra.s.s or corn he takes a wider swarth, in pitching he wants a shorter p.r.o.ng; in making buildings he does not so soon want a ladder or a scaffold; in fighting he keeps his body farther from the point of his sword. To be sure, a man _may_ be tall and _weak_; but, this is the exception and not the rule: _height_ and _weight_ and _strength_, in men as in speechless animals, generally go together. Aye, and in enterprise and courage too, the powers of the body have a great deal to do. Doubtless there are, have been, and always will be, great numbers of small and enterprizing and brave men; but it is _not in nature_, that, _generally speaking_, those who are conscious of their inferiority in point of bodily strength, should possess the boldness of those who have a contrary description.

277. To what but this difference in the _size_ and _strength_ of the opposing combatants are we to ascribe the ever-to-be-blushed-at events of our last war against the United States! The _hearts_ of our seamen and soldiers were as good as those of the Yankees: on both sides they had sprung from the same stock: on both sides equally well supplied with all the materials of war: if on either side, the superior skill was on ours: French, Dutch, Spaniards, all had confessed our superior prowess: yet, when, with our whole undivided strength, and to that strength adding the flush and pride of victory and conquest, crowned even in the capital of France; when, with all these tremendous advantages, and with all the nations of the earth looking on, we came foot to foot and yard-arm to yard-arm with the Americans, the result was such as an English pen refuses to describe. What, then, was the _great cause_ of this result, which filled us with shame and the world with astonishment?

Not the want of _courage_ in our men. There were, indeed, _some moral causes at work_; but the main cause was, the great superiority of size and of bodily strength on the part of the enemy's soldiers and sailors.

It was _so many men_ on each side; but it was men of a different size and strength; and, on the side of the foe, men accustomed to daring enterprise from a consciousness of that strength.

278. Why are abstinence and fasting enjoined by the Catholic Church?

Why, to make men _humble_, _meek_, and _tame_; and they have this effect too: this is visible in whole nations as well as in individuals. So that good food, and plenty of it, is not more necessary to the forming of a stout and able body than to the forming of an active and enterprizing spirit. Poor food, short allowance, while they check the growth of the child's body, check also the daring of the mind; and, therefore, the starving or pinching system ought to be avoided by all means. Children should eat _often_, and as much as they like at a time. They will, if at full heap, never take, of _plain food_, more than it is good for them to take. They may, indeed, be stuffed with _cakes_ and _sweet things_ till they be ill, and, indeed, until they bring on dangerous disorders: but, of _meat plainly_ and _well cooked_, and of _bread_, they will never swallow the tenth part of an ounce more than it is necessary for them to swallow. Ripe fruit, or cooked fruit, if no _sweetening_ take place, will never hurt them; but, when they once get a taste for sugary stuff, and to cram down loads of garden vegetables; when ices, creams, tarts, raisins, almonds, all the endless pamperings come, the _doctor_ must soon follow with his drugs. The blowing out of the bodies of children with tea, coffee, soup, or warm liquids of any kind, is very bad: these have an effect precisely like that which is produced by feeding young rabbits, or pigs, or other young animals upon watery vegetables: it makes them big-bellied and bare-boned at the same time; and it effectually prevents the frame from becoming strong. Children in health want no drink other than skim milk, or b.u.t.ter-milk, or whey; and, if none of those be at hand, water will do very well, provided they have plenty of _good meat_. Cheese and b.u.t.ter do very well for part of the day. Puddings and pies; but always _without sugar_, which, say what people will about the _wholesomeness_ of it, is not only of _no use_ in the rearing of children, but injurious: it forces an appet.i.te: like strong drink, it makes daily encroachments on the taste: it wheedles down that which the stomach does not want: it finally produces illness: it is one of the curses of the country; for it, by taking off the bitter of the tea and coffee, is the great cause of sending down into the stomach those quant.i.ties of warm water by which the body is debilitated and deformed and the mind enfeebled. I am addressing myself to persons in the middle walk of life; but no parent can be _sure_ that his child will not be compelled to labour hard for its daily bread: and then, how vast is the difference between one who has been pampered with sweets and one who has been reared on plain food and simple drink!

279. The next thing after good and plentiful and plain food is _good air_. This is not within the reach of every one; but, to obtain it is worth great sacrifices in other respects. We know that there are _smells_ which will cause _instant death_; we know, that there are others which will cause death _in a few years_; and, therefore, we know that it is the duty of parents to provide, if possible, against this danger to the health of their offspring. To be sure, when a man is so situated that he cannot give his children sweet air without putting himself into a jail for debt: when, in short, he has the dire choice of sickly children, children with big heads, small limbs, and ricketty joints: or children sent to the poor-house: when this is his hard lot, he must decide for the former sad alternative: but before he will convince me that this _is_ his lot, he must prove to me, that he and his wife expend not a penny in the _decoration_ of their persons; that on his table, morning, noon, or night, _nothing_ ever comes that is not the produce of _English soil_; that of his time not one hour is wasted in what is called pleasure; that down his throat not one drop or morsel ever goes, unless necessary to sustain life and health. How many scores and how many hundreds of men have I seen; how many thousands could I go and point out, to-morrow, in London, the money expended on whose guzzlings in porter, grog and wine, would keep, and keep well, in the country, a considerable part of the year, a wife surrounded by healthy children, instead of being stewed up in some alley, or back room, with a parcel of poor creatures about her, whom she, though their fond mother, is almost ashamed to call hers! Compared with the life of such a woman, that of the labourer, however poor, is paradise. Tell me not of the necessity of _providing money for them_, even if you waste not a farthing: you can provide them with no money equal in value to health and straight limbs and good looks: these it is, if within your power, your _bounden duty_ to provide for them: as to providing them with money, you deceive yourself; it is your own avarice, or vanity, that you are seeking to gratify, and not to ensure the good of your children.

Their most precious possession is _health_ and _strength_; and you have _no right_ to run the risk of depriving them of these for the sake of heaping together money to bestow on them: you have the desire to see them rich: it is to gratify _yourself_ that you act in such a case; and you, however you may deceive yourself, are guilty of _injustice_ towards them. You would be ashamed to see them _without fortune_; but not at all ashamed to see them without straight limbs, without colour in their cheeks, without strength, without activity, and with only half their due portion of reason.

280. Besides _sweet air_, children want _exercise_. Even when they are babies in arms, they want tossing and pulling about, and want talking and singing to. They should be put upon their feet by slow degrees, according to the strength of their legs; and this is a matter which a good mother will attend to with incessant care. If they appear to be likely to _squint_, she will, always when they wake up, and frequently in the day, take care to present some pleasing object _right before_, and _never on the side_ of their face. If they appear, when they begin to talk, to indicate a propensity to _stammer_, she will stop them, repeat the word or words slowly herself, and get them to do the same.

These precautions are amongst the most sacred of the duties of parents; for, remember, the deformity is _for life_; a thought which will fill every good parent's heart with solicitude. All _swaddling_ and _tight covering_ are mischievous. They produce distortions of some sort or other. To let children creep and roll about till they get upon their legs of themselves is a very good way. I never saw a _native American_ with crooked limbs or hump-back, and never heard any man say that he had seen one. And the reason is, doubtless, the loose dress in which children, from the moment of their birth, are kept, the good food that they always have, and the sweet air that they breathe in consequence of the absence of all dread of poverty on the part of the parents.

281. As to bodily exercise, they will, when they begin to get about, take, if you let them alone, just as much of it as nature bids them, and no more. That is a pretty deal, indeed, if they be in health; and, it is your duty, now, to provide for their taking of that exercise, when they begin to be what are called _boys_ and _girls_, in a way that shall tend to give them the greatest degree of pleasure, accompanied with the smallest risk of pain: in other words, to _make their lives as pleasant as you possibly can_. I have always admired the sentiment of ROUSSEAU upon this subject. 'The boy dies, perhaps, at the age of ten or twelve.

Of what _use_, then, all the restraints, all the privations, all the pain, that you have inflicted upon him? He falls, and leaves your mind to brood over the possibility of your having abridged a life so dear to you.' I do not recollect the very words; but the pa.s.sage made a deep impression upon my mind, just at the time, too, when I was about to become a father; and I was resolved never to bring upon myself remorse from such a cause; a resolution from which no importunities, coming from what quarter they might, ever induced me, in one single instance, or for one single moment, to depart. I was resolved to forego all the means of making money, all the means of living in any thing like fashion, all the means of obtaining fame or distinction, to give up every thing, to become a common labourer, rather than make my children lead a life of restraint and rebuke; I could not be _sure_ that my children would love me as they loved their own lives; but I was, at any rate, resolved to deserve such love at their hands; and, in possession of that, I felt that I could set calamity, of whatever description, at defiance.

282. Now, proceeding to relate what was, in this respect, my line of conduct, I am not pretending that _every_ man, and particularly every man living in _a town_, can, in all respects, do as I did in the rearing up of children. But, in many respects, any man may, whatever may be his state of life. For I did not lead an idle life; I had to work constantly for the means of living; my occupation required unremitted attention; I had nothing but my labour to rely on; and I had no friend, to whom, in case of need, I could fly for a.s.sistance: I always saw the possibility, and even the probability, of being totally ruined by the hand of power; but, happen what would, I was resolved, that, as long as I could cause them to do it, my children should lead happy lives; and happy lives they did lead, if ever children did in this whole world.

283. The first thing that I did, when the fourth child had come, was to _get into the country_, and so far as to render a going backward and forward to London, at short intervals, quite out of the question. Thus was _health_, the greatest of all things, provided for, as far as I was able to make the provision. Next, my being _always at home_ was secured as far as possible; always with them to set an example of early rising, sobriety, and application to something or other. Children, and especially boys, will have some out-of-door pursuits; and it was my duty to lead them to choose such pursuits as combined future utility with present innocence. Each his flower-bed, little garden, plantation of trees; rabbits, dogs, a.s.ses, horses, pheasants and hares; hoes, spades, whips, guns; always some object of lively interest, and as much _earnestness_ and _bustle_ about the various objects as if our living had solely depended upon them. I made everything give way to the great object of making their lives happy and innocent. I did not know what they might be in time, or what might be my lot; but I was resolved not to be the cause of their being unhappy _then_, let what might become of us afterwards. I was, as I am, of opinion, that it is injurious to the mind to press _book-learning_ upon it at an _early age_: I always felt pain for poor little things, set up, before 'company,' to repeat verses, or bits of plays, at six or eight years old. I have sometimes not known which way to look, when a mother (and, too often, a father), whom I could not but respect on account of her fondness for her child, has forced the feeble-voiced eighth wonder of the world, to stand with its little hand stretched out, spouting the _soliloquy of Hamlet_, or some such thing. I remember, on one occasion, a little pale-faced creature, only five years old, was brought in, after the _feeding_ part of the dinner was over, first to take his regular half-gla.s.s of vintner's brewings, commonly called wine, and then to treat us to a display of his wonderful genius. The subject was a speech of a robust and bold youth, in a Scotch play, the t.i.tle of which I have forgotten, but the speech began with, 'My name is Norval: on the Grampian Hills my father fed his flocks...' And this in a voice so weak and distressing as to put me in mind of the plaintive squeaking of little pigs when the sow is lying on them. As we were going home (one of my boys and I) he, after a silence of half a mile perhaps, rode up close to the side of my horse, and said, 'Papa, where _be_ the _Grampian Hills_?' 'Oh,' said I, 'they are in Scotland; poor, barren, beggarly places, covered with heath and rushes, ten times as barren as Sherril Heath.' 'But,' said he, 'how could that little boy's father feed _his flocks_ there, then?' I was ready to tumble off the horse with laughing.

284. I do not know any thing much more distressing to the spectators than exhibitions of this sort. Every one feels, not for the child, for it is insensible to the uneasiness it excites, but for the parents, whose amiable fondness displays itself in this ridiculous manner. Upon these occasions, no one knows what to say, or whither to direct his looks. The parents, and especially the fond mother, looks sharply round for the so-evidently merited applause, as an actor of the name of MUNDEN, whom I recollect thirty years ago, used, when he had treated us to a witty shrug of his shoulders, or twist of his chin, to turn his face up to the gallery for the clap. If I had to declare on my oath which have been the most disagreeable moments of my life, I verily believe, that, after due consideration, I should fix upon those, in which parents, whom I have respected, have made me endure exhibitions like these; for, this is your choice, to be _insincere_, or to _give offence_.

285. And, as towards the child, it is to be _unjust_, thus to teach it to set a high value on trifling, not to say mischievous, attainments; to make it, whether it be in its natural disposition or not, vain and conceited. The plaudits which it receives, in such cases, puffs it up in its own thoughts, sends it out into the world stuffed with pride and insolence, which must and will be extracted out of it by one means or another; and none but those who have had to endure the drawing of firmly-fixed teeth, can, I take it, have an adequate idea of the painfulness of this operation. Now, parents have _no right_ thus to indulge their own feelings at the risk of the happiness of their children.

286. The great matter is, however, the _spoiling of the mind_ by forcing on it thoughts which it is not fit to receive. We know well, we daily see, that in men, as well as in other animals, the body is rendered comparatively small and feeble by being heavily loaded, or hard worked, before it arrive at size and strength proportioned to such load and such work. It is just so with the mind: the attempt to put old heads upon young shoulders is just as unreasonable as it would be to expect a colt six months old to be able to carry a man. The mind, as well as the body, requires time to come to its strength; and the way to have it possess, at last, its natural strength, is not to attempt to load it too soon; and to favour it in its progress by giving to the body good and plentiful food, sweet air, and abundant exercise, accompanied with as little discontent or uneasiness as possible. It is universally known, that ailments of the body are, in many cases, sufficient to _destroy_ the mind, and to debilitate it in innumerable instances. It is equally well known, that the torments of the mind are, in many cases, sufficient to _destroy_ the body. This, then, being so well known, is it not the first duty of a father to secure to his children, if possible, sound and strong bodies? LORD BACON says, that 'a sound mind in a sound body is the greatest of G.o.d's blessings.' To see his children possess these, therefore, ought to be the first object with every father; an object which I cannot too often endeavour to fix in his mind.

287. I am to speak presently of that sort of _learning_ which is derived from _books_, and which is a matter by no means to be neglected, or to be thought little of, seeing that it is the road, not only to fame, but to the means of doing great good to one's neighbours and to one's country, and, thereby, of adding to those pleasant feelings which are, in other words, our happiness. But, notwithstanding this, I must here insist, and endeavour to impress my opinion upon the mind of every father, that his children's _happiness_ ought to be _first_ object; that _book-learning_, if it tend to militate against this, ought to be disregarded; and that, as to money, as to fortune, as to rank and t.i.tle, that father who can, in the destination of his children, think of them more than of the _happiness_ of those children, is, if he be of sane mind, a great criminal. Who is there, having lived to the age of thirty, or even twenty, years, and having the ordinary capacity for observation; who is there, being of this description, who must not be convinced of the inadequacy of _riches_ and what are called _honours_ to insure _happiness_? Who, amongst all the cla.s.ses of men, experience, on an average, so little of _real_ pleasure, and so much of _real_ pain as the rich and the lofty? Pope gives us, as the materials for happiness, '_health_, _peace_, and _competence_.' Aye, but what _is_ peace, and what _is_ competence? If, by _peace_, he mean that tranquillity of mind which innocence and good deeds produce, he is right and clear so far; for we all know that, without _health_, which has a well-known positive meaning, there can be no happiness. But _competence_ is a word of unfixed meaning. It may, with some, mean enough to eat, drink, wear and be lodged and warmed with; but, with others, it may include horses, carriages, and footmen laced over from top to toe. So that, here, we have no guide; no standard; and, indeed, there can be none. But as every sensible father must know that the possession of riches do not, never did, and never can, afford even a chance of additional happiness, it is his duty to inculcate in the minds of his children to make no sacrifice of principle, of moral obligation of any sort, in order to obtain riches, or distinction; and it is a duty still more imperative on him, not to expose them to the risk of loss of health, or diminution of strength, for purposes which have, either directly or indirectly, the acquiring of riches in view, whether for himself or for them.

288. With these principles immoveably implanted in my mind, I became the father of a family, and on these principles I have reared that family.

Being myself fond of _book-learning_, and knowing well its powers, I naturally wished them to possess it too; but never did I _impose it_ upon any one of them. My first duty was to make them _healthy_ and _strong_ if I could, and to give them as much enjoyment of life as possible. Born and bred up in the sweet air myself, I was resolved that they should be bred up in it too. Enjoying rural scenes and sports, as I had done, when a boy, as much as any one that ever was born, I was resolved, that they should have the same enjoyments tendered to them.

When I was a very little boy, I was, in the barley-sowing season, going along by the side of a field, near WAVERLY ABBEY; the primroses and blue-bells bespangling the banks on both sides of me; a thousand linnets singing in a spreading oak over my head; while the jingle of the traces and the whistling of the ploughboys saluted my ear from over the hedge; and, as it were to s.n.a.t.c.h me from the enchantment, the hounds, at that instant, having started a hare in the hanger on the other side of the field, came up scampering over it in full cry, taking me after them many a mile. I was not more than eight years old; but this particular scene has presented itself to my mind many times every year from that day to this. I always enjoy it over again; and I was resolved to give, if possible, the same enjoyments to my children.

289. Men's circ.u.mstances are so various; there is such a great variety in their situations in life, their business, the extent of their pecuniary means, the local state in which they are placed, their internal resources; the variety in all these respects is so great, that, as applicable to _every_ family, it would be impossible to lay down any set of rules, or maxims, touching _every_ matter relating to the management and rearing up of children. In giving an account, therefore, of _my own_ conduct, in this respect, I am not to be understood as supposing, that _every_ father _can_, or ought, to attempt to do _the same_; but while it will be seen, that there are _many_, and these the most important parts of that conduct, that _all_ fathers may imitate, if they choose, there is no part of it which thousands and thousands of fathers might not adopt and pursue, and adhere to, to the very letter.

290. I effected every thing without scolding, and even without _command_. My children are a family of _scholars_, each s.e.x its appropriate species of learning; and, I could safely take my oath, that I never _ordered_ a child of mine, son or daughter, _to look into a book_, in my life. My two eldest sons, when about eight years old, were, for the sake of their health, placed for a very short time, at a Clergyman's at MICHELDEVER, and my eldest daughter, a little older, at a school a few miles from Botley, to avoid taking them to London in the winter. But, with these exceptions, never had they, while children, _teacher_ of any description; and I never, and n.o.body else ever, taught any one of them to read, write, or any thing else, except in _conversation_; and, yet, no man was ever more anxious to be the father of a family of clever and learned persons.

291. I accomplished my purpose _indirectly_. The first thing of all was _health_, which was secured by the deeply-interesting and never-ending _sports of the field_ and _pleasures of the garden_. Luckily these things were treated of in _books_ and _pictures_ of endless variety; so that on _wet days_, in _long evenings_, these came into play. A large, strong table, in the middle of the room, their mother sitting at her work, used to be surrounded with them, the baby, if big enough, set up in a high chair. Here were ink-stands, pens, pencils, India rubber, and paper, all in abundance, and every one scrabbled about as he or she pleased. There were prints of animals of all sorts; books treating of them: others treating of gardening, of flowers, of husbandry, of hunting, coursing, shooting, fishing, planting, and, in short, of every thing, with regard to which _we had something to do_. One would be trying to imitate a bit of my writing, another _drawing_ the pictures of some of our dogs or horses, a third poking over _Bewick's Quadrupeds_ and picking out what he said about them; but our book of never-failing resource was the _French_ MAISON RUSTIQUE, or FARM-HOUSE, which, it is said, was the book that first tempted DUQUESNOIS (I think that was the name), the famous physician, in the reign of Louis XIV., _to learn to read_. Here are all the _four-legged animals_, from the horse down to the mouse, _portraits_ and all; all the _birds_, _reptiles_, _insects_; all the modes of rearing, managing, and using the tame ones; all the modes of taking the wild ones, and of destroying those that are mischievous; all the various traps, springs, nets; all the implements of husbandry and gardening; all the labours of the field and the garden exhibited, as well as the rest, in plates; and, there was I, in my leisure moments, to join this inquisitive group, to read the _French_, and tell them what it meaned in _English_, when the picture did not sufficiently explain itself. I never have been without a copy of this book for forty years, except during the time that I was fleeing from the dungeons of CASTLEREAGH and SIDMOUTH, in 1817; and, when I got to Long Island, the _first book I bought_ was another MAISON RUSTIQUE.

292. What need had we of _schools_? What need of _teachers_? What need of _scolding_ and _force_, to induce children to read, write, and love books? What need of _cards, dice_, or of any _games_, to '_kill time_;'

but, in fact, to implant in the infant heart a love of _gaming_, one of the most destructive of all human vices? We did not want to _'kill time_;' we were always _busy_, wet weather or dry weather, winter or summer. There was _no force_ in any case; no _command_; no _authority_; none of these was ever wanted. To teach the children the habit of _early rising_ was a great object; and every one knows how young people cling to their beds, and how loth they are to go to those beds. This was a capital matter; because, here were _industry_ and _health_ both at stake. Yet, I avoided _command_ even here; and merely offered a _reward_. The child that was _down stairs_ first, was called the LARK _for that day_; and, further, _sat at my right hand at dinner_. They soon discovered, that to rise early, they must _go to bed early_; and thus was this most important object secured, with regard to girls as well as boys. Nothing more inconvenient, and, indeed, more disgusting, than to have to do with girls, or young women, who lounge in bed: 'A little more sleep, a little more slumber, a little more folding of the hands to sleep.' SOLOMON knew them well: he had, I dare say, seen the breakfast cooling, carriages and horses and servants waiting, the sun coming burning on, the day wasting, the night growing dark too early, appointments broken, and the objects of journeys defeated; and all this from the lolloping in bed of persons who ought to have risen with the sun. No beauty, no modesty, no accomplishments, are a compensation for the effects of laziness in women; and, of all the proofs of laziness, none is so unequivocal as that of lying late in bed. Love makes men overlook this vice (for it is a _vice_), for _a while_; but, this does not last for life. Besides, _health_ demands early rising: the management of a house imperiously demands it; but _health_, that most precious possession, without which there is nothing else worth possessing, demands it too. The _morning air_ is the most wholesome and strengthening: even in crowded cities, men might do pretty well with the aid of the morning air; but, how are they to _rise_ early, if they go to bed _late_?

293. But, to do the things I did, you must _love home_ yourself; to rear up children in this manner, you must _live with them_; you must make them, too, _feel_, by your conduct, that you _prefer_ this to any other mode of pa.s.sing your time. All men cannot lead this sort of life, but many may; and all much more than many do. My occupation, to be sure, was chiefly carried on _at home_; but, I had always enough to do; I never spent an idle week, or even day, in my whole life. Yet I found time to talk with them, to walk, or ride, about _with them_; and when forced to go from home, always took one or more with me. You must be good-tempered too with them; they must like _your_ company better than any other person's; they must not wish you away, not fear your coming back, not look upon your departure as a _holiday_. When my business kept me away from the _scrabbling_-table, a pet.i.tion often came, that I would go and _talk_ with the group, and the bearer generally was the youngest, being the most likely to succeed. When I went from home, all followed me to the outer-gate, and looked after me, till the carriage, or horse, was out of sight. At the time appointed for my return, all were prepared to meet me; and if it were late at night, they sat up as long as they were able to keep their eyes open. This love of parents, and this constant pleasure _at home_, made them not even think of seeking pleasure abroad; and they, thus, were kept from vicious playmates and early corruption.

294. This is the age, too, to teach children to be _trust-worthy_, and to be _merciful_ and _humane_. We lived _in a garden_ of about two acres, partly kitchen-garden with walls, partly shrubbery and trees, and partly gra.s.s. There were the _peaches_, as tempting as any that ever grew, and yet as safe from fingers as if no child were ever in the garden. It was not necessary to _forbid_. The blackbirds, the thrushes, the whitethroats, and even that very shy bird the goldfinch, had their nests and bred up their young-ones, in great abundance, all about this little spot, constantly the play-place of six children; and one of the latter had its nest, and brought up its young-ones, in a _raspberry-bush_, within two yards of a walk, and at the time that we were gathering the ripe raspberries. We give _dogs_, and justly, great credit for sagacity and memory; but the following two most curious instances, which I should not venture to state, if there were not so many witnesses to the facts, in my neighbours at Botley, as well as in my own family, will show, that _birds_ are not, in this respect, inferior to the canine race. All country people know that the _skylark_ is a very shy bird; that its abode is the open fields: that it settles on the ground only; that it seeks safety in the wideness of s.p.a.ce; that it avoids enclosures, and is never seen in gardens. A part of our ground was a gra.s.s-plat of about _forty rods_, or a quarter of an acre, which, one year, was left to be mowed for hay. A pair of larks, coming out of the fields into the middle of a pretty populous village, chose to make their nest in the middle of this little spot, and at not more than about _thirty-five yards_ from one of the doors of the house, in which there were about twelve persons living, and six of those children, who had constant access to all parts of the ground. There we saw the c.o.c.k rising up and singing, then taking his turn upon the eggs; and by-and-by, we observed him cease to sing, and saw them both _constantly engaged in bringing food to the young ones_. No unintelligible hint to fathers and mothers of the human race, who have, before marriage, taken delight in _music_. But the time came for _mowing the gra.s.s_! I waited a good many days for the brood to get away; but, at last, I determined on the day; and if the larks were there still, to leave a patch of gra.s.s standing round them. In order not to keep them in dread longer than necessary, I brought three able mowers, who would cut the whole in about an hour; and as the plat was nearly circular, set them to mow _round_, beginning at the outside. And now for sagacity indeed! The moment the men began to whet their scythes, the two old larks began to flutter over the nest, and to make a great clamour. When the men began to mow, they flew round and round, stooping so low, when near the men, as almost to touch their bodies, making a great chattering at the same time; but before the men had got round with the second swarth, they flew to the nest, and away they went, young ones and all, across the river, at the foot of the ground, and settled in the long gra.s.s in my neighbour's orchard.

295. The other instance relates to a HOUSE-MARTEN. It is well known that these birds build their nests under the eaves of inhabited houses, and sometimes under those of door porches; but we had one that built its nest _in the house_, and upon the top of a common doorcase, the door of which opened into a room out of the main pa.s.sage into the house.

Perceiving the marten had begun to build its nest here, we kept the front-door open in the daytime; but were obliged to fasten it at night.

It went on, had eggs, young ones, and the young ones flew. I used to open the door in the morning early, and then the birds carried on their affairs till night. The next _year_ the MARTEN came again, and had _another brood in the same place_. It found its _old nest_; and having repaired it, and put it in order, went on again in the former way; and it would, I dare say, have continued to come to the end of its life, if we had remained there so long, notwithstanding there were six healthy children in the house, making just as much noise as they pleased.

296. Now, what _sagacity_ in these birds, to discover that those were places of safety! And how happy must it have made us, the parents, to be _sure_ that our children had thus deeply imbibed habits the contrary of cruelty! For, be it engraven on your heart, YOUNG MAN, that, whatever appearances may say to the contrary, _cruelty_ is always accompanied with _cowardice_, and also with _perfidy_, when that is called for by the circ.u.mstances of the case; and that _habitual_ acts of cruelty to other creatures, will, nine times out of ten, produce, when the power is possessed, cruelty to human beings. The ill-usage of _horses_, and particularly _a.s.ses_, is a grave and a just charge against this nation.

No other nation on earth is guilty of it to the same extent. Not only by _blows_, but by privation, are we cruel towards these useful, docile, and patient creatures; and especially towards the last, which is the most docile and patient and laborious of the two, while the food that satisfies it, is of the coa.r.s.est and least costly kind, and in quant.i.ty so small! In the habitual ill-treatment of this animal, which, in addition to all its labours, has the milk taken from its young ones to administer a remedy for our ailments, there is something that bespeaks _ingrat.i.tude_ hardly to be described. In a REGISTER that I wrote from Long Island, I said, that amongst all the things of which I had been bereft, I regretted no one so much as a very diminutive _mare_, on which my children had all, in succession, learned to ride. She was become useless for them, and, indeed, for any other purpose; but the recollection of her was so entwined with so many past circ.u.mstances, which, at that distance, my mind conjured up, that I really was very uneasy, lest she should fall into cruel hands. By good luck, she was, after a while, turned out on the wide world to shift for herself; and when we got back, and had a place for her to _stand_ in, from her native forest we brought her to Kensington, and she is now at Barn-Elm, about twenty-six years old, and I dare say, as fat as a mole. Now, not only have I no moral _right_ (considering my ability to pay for keep) to deprive her of life; but it would be _unjust_ and _ungrateful_, in me to withhold from her sufficient food and lodging to make life as pleasant as possible while that life last.

297. In the meanwhile the book-learning _crept in_ of its own accord, by imperceptible degrees. Children naturally want to be _like_ their parents, and _to do what they do_: the boys following their father, and the girls their mother; and as I was always _writing_ or _reading_, mine naturally desired to do something in the same way. But, at the same time, they heard no talk from _fools_ or _drinkers_; saw me with no idle, gabbling, empty companions; saw no vain and affected c.o.xcombs, and no tawdry and extravagant women; saw no nasty gormandizing; and heard no gabble about play-houses and romances and the other nonsense that fit boys to be lobby-loungers, and girls to be the ruin of industrious and frugal young men.

298. We wanted no stimulants of this sort to _keep up our spirits_: our various pleasing pursuits were quite sufficient for that; and the _book-learning_ came amongst the rest of the pleasures, to which it was, in some sort, necessary. I remember that, one year, I raised a prodigious crop of fine _melons_, under hand-gla.s.ses; and I learned how to do it from a gardening _book_; or, at least, that book was necessary to remind me of the details. Having pa.s.sed part of an evening in talking to the boys about getting this crop, 'Come,' said I, 'now, let us _read the book_.' Then the book came forth, and to work we went, following very strictly the precepts of the book. I read the thing but once, but the eldest boy read it, perhaps, twenty times over; and explained all about the matter to the others. Why here was a _motive_! Then he had to tell the garden-labourer _what to do_ to the melons. Now, I will engage, that more was really _learned_ by this single _lesson_, than would have been learned by spending, at this son's age, a year at school; and he _happy_ and _delighted_ all the while. When any dispute arose amongst them about hunting or shooting, or any other of their pursuits, they, by degrees, found out the way of settling it by reference to some book; and when any difficulty occurred, as to the meaning, they referred to me, who, if at home, _always instantly attended to them_, in these matters.

299. They began writing by taking words out of _printed books_; finding out which letter was which, by asking me, or asking those who knew the letters one from another; and by imitating bits of my writing, it is surprising how soon they began to write a hand like mine, very small, very faint-stroked, and nearly plain as print. The first use that any one of them made of the pen, was to _write to me_, though in the same house with them. They began doing this in mere _scratches_, before they knew how to make any one letter; and as I was always folding up letters and directing them, so were they; and they were _sure_ to receive a _prompt answer_, with most _encouraging_ compliments. All the meddlings and teazings of friends, and, what was more serious, the pressing prayers of their anxious mother, about sending them to _school_, I withstood without the slightest effect on my resolution. As to friends, preferring my own judgment to theirs, I did not care much; but an expression of anxiety, implying a doubt of the soundness of my own judgment, coming, perhaps, twenty times a day from her whose care they were as well as mine, was not a matter to smile at, and very great trouble it did give me. My answer at last was, as to the boys, I want them to be _like me_; and as to the girls, In whose hands can they be so safe as in _yours_? Therefore my resolution is taken: _go to school they shall not_.

300. Nothing is much more annoying than the _intermeddling of friends_, in a case like this. The wife appeals _to them_, and '_good breeding_,'

that is to say, _nonsense_, is sure to put them on _her side_. Then, they, particularly the _women_, when describing the _surprising progress_ made by their _own sons_ at school, used, if one of mine were present, to turn to him, and ask, to what school _he went_, and what _he_ was _learning_? I leave any one to judge of _his_ opinion of her; and whether _he_ would like her the better for that! 'Bless me, so tall, and _not learned_ any thing _yet_!' 'Oh yes, he has,' I used to say, 'he has learned to ride, and hunt, and shoot, and fish, and look after cattle and sheep, and to work in the garden, and to feed his dogs, and to go from village to village in the dark.' This was the way I used to manage with troublesome customers of this sort. And how glad the children used to be, when they got clear of such criticising people! And how grateful they felt to me for the _protection_ which they saw that I gave them against that state of restraint, of which other people's boys complained! Go whither they might, they found no place so pleasant as home, and no soul that came near them affording them so many means of gratification as they received from me.

301. In this happy state we lived, until the year 1810, when the government laid its merciless fangs upon me, dragged me from these delights, and _crammed me into a jail amongst felons_; of which I shall have to speak more fully, when, in the last Number, I come to speak of the duties of THE CITIZEN. This added to the difficulties of my task of _teaching_; for now I was s.n.a.t.c.hed away from the _only_ scene in which it could, as I thought, properly be executed. But even these difficulties were got over. The blow was, to be sure, a terrible one; and, oh G.o.d! how was it felt by these poor children! It was in the month of July when the horrible sentence was pa.s.sed upon me. My wife, having left her children in the care of her good and affectionate sister, was in London, waiting to know the doom of her husband. When the news arrived at Botley, the three boys, one eleven, another nine, and the other seven, years old, were hoeing cabbages in that garden which had been the source of so much delight. When the account of the savage sentence was brought to them, the youngest could not, for some time, be made to understand what a _jail_ was; and, when he did, he, all in a tremor, exclaimed, 'Now I'm sure, William, that PAPA is not in a place _like that_!' The other, in order to disguise his tears and smother his sobs, fell to work with the hoe, and _chopped about like a blind person_. This account, when it reached me, affected me more, filled me with deeper resentment, than any other circ.u.mstance. And, oh! how I despise the wretches who talk of my _vindictiveness_; of my _exultation_ at the confusion of those who inflicted those sufferings! How I despise the base creatures, the crawling slaves, the callous and cowardly hypocrites, who affect to be '_shocked_' (tender souls!) at my expressions of _joy_, and at the death of Gibbs, Ellenborough, Perceval, Liverpool, Canning, and the rest of the tribe that I have already seen out, and at the fatal workings of _that system_, for endeavouring to check which I was thus punished! How I despise these wretches, and how I, above all things, enjoy their ruin, and antic.i.p.ate their utter beggary! What! I am to forgive, am I, injuries like this; and that, too, without any _atonement_? Oh, no! I have not so read the Holy Scriptures; I have not, from them, learned that I am not to rejoice at the fall of unjust foes; and it makes a part of my happiness to be able _to tell millions of men_ that I do thus rejoice, and that I have the means of calling on so many just and merciful men to rejoice along with me.

302. Now, then, the _book-learning_ was _forced_ upon us. I had a _farm_ in hand. It was necessary that I should be constantly informed of what was doing. I gave _all the orders_, whether as to purchases, sales, ploughing, sowing, breeding; in short, with regard to every thing, and the things were endless in number and variety, and always full of interest. My eldest son and daughter could now write well and fast. One or the other of these was always at Botley; and I had with me (having hired the best part of the keeper's house) one or two, besides either this brother or sister; the mother coming up to town about once in two or three months, leaving the house and children in the care of her sister. We had a HAMPER, with a lock and two keys, which came up once a week, or oftener, bringing me fruit and all sorts of country fare, for the carriage of which, cost free, I was indebted to as good a man as ever G.o.d created, the late Mr. GEORGE ROGERS, of Southampton, who, in the prime of life, died deeply lamented by thousands, but by none more deeply than by me and my family, who have to thank him, and the whole of his excellent family, for benefits and marks of kindness without number.

303. This HAMPER, which was always, at both ends of the line, looked for with the most lively feelings, became our _school_. It brought me _a journal_ of _labours_, _proceedings_, and _occurrences_, written on paper of shape and size uniform, and so contrived, as to margins, as to admit of binding. The journal used, when my son was the writer, to be interspersed with drawings of our dogs, colts, or any thing that he wanted me to have a correct idea of. The hamper brought me plants, bulbs, and the like, that I might _see_ the size of them; and always every one sent his or her _most beautiful flowers_; the earliest violets, and primroses, and cowslips, and blue-bells; the earliest twigs of trees; and, in short, every thing that they thought calculated to delight me. The moment the hamper arrived, I, casting aside every thing else, set to work to answer _every question_, to give new directions, and to add anything likely to give pleasure at Botley. _Every_ hamper brought one '_letter_,' as they called it, if not more, from every child; and to _every_ letter I wrote _an answer_, sealed up and sent to the party, being sure that that was the way to produce other and better letters; for, though they could not read what I wrote, and though their own consisted at first of mere _scratches_, and afterwards, for a while, of a few words written down for them to imitate, I always thanked them for their '_pretty letter_'; and never expressed any wish to see them _write better_; but took care to write in a very neat and plain hand _myself_, and to do up my letter in a very neat manner.

304. Thus, while the ferocious tigers thought I was doomed to incessant mortification, and to rage that must extinguish my mental powers, I found in my children, and in their spotless and courageous and most affectionate mother, delights to which the callous hearts of those tigers were strangers. 'Heaven first taught letters for some wretch's aid.' How often did this line of Pope occur to me when I opened the little _spuddling_ 'letters' from Botley! This correspondence occupied a good part of my time: I had all the children with me, turn and turn about; and, in order to give the boys exercise, and to give the two eldest an opportunity of beginning to learn French, I used, for a part of the two years, to send them a few hours in the day to an ABBe, who lived in Castle-street, Holborn. All this was a great relaxation to my mind; and, when I had to return to my literary labours, I returned _fresh_ and cheerful, full of vigour, and _full of hope_, of finally seeing my unjust and merciless foes at my feet, and that, too, without caring a straw on whom their fall might bring calamity, so that my own family were safe; because, say what any one might, the _community, taken as a whole_, had _suffered this thing to be done unto us_.

305. The paying of the work-people, the keeping of the accounts, the referring to books, the writing and reading of letters; this everlasting mixture of amus.e.m.e.nt with book-learning, made me, almost to my own surprise, find, at the end of the two years, that I had a parcel of _scholars_ growing up about me; and, long before the end of the time, I had _dictated many Registers_ to my two eldest children. Then, there was _copying_ out of books, which taught _spelling correctly_. The calculations about the farming affairs forced arithmetic upon us: the _use_, the _necessity_, of the thing, led to the study. By-and-by, we had to look into the _laws_ to know what to do about the _highways_, about the _game_, about the _poor_, and all rural and _parochial_ affairs. I was, indeed, by the fangs of the government, defeated in my fondly-cherished project of making my sons farmers on their own land, and keeping them from all temptation to seek vicious and enervating enjoyments; but those fangs, merciless as they had been, had not been able to prevent me from laying in for their lives a store of useful information, habits of industry, care, sobriety, and a taste for innocent, healthful, and manly pleasures: the fangs had made me and them pennyless; but, they had not been able to take from us our health or our mental possessions; and these were ready for application as circ.u.mstances might ordain.

306. After the age that I have now been speaking of, _fourteen_, I suppose every one _became_ a reader and writer according to fancy. As to _books_, with the exception of the _Poets_, I never bought, in my whole life, any one that I did not _want_ for some purpose of _utility_, and of _practical utility_ too. I have two or three times had the whole collection s.n.a.t.c.hed away from me; and have begun again to get them together as they were wanted. Go and kick an ANT's nest about, and you will see the little laborious, courageous creatures _instantly_ set to work to get it together again; and if you do this ten times over, ten times over they will do the same. Here is the sort of stuff that men must be made of to oppose, with success, those who, by whatever means, get possession of great and mischievous power.

307. Now, I am aware, that that which _I did_, cannot be done by every one of hundreds of thousands of fathers, each of whom loves his children with all his soul: I am aware that the attorney, the surgeon, the physician, the trader, and even the farmer, cannot, generally speaking, do what I did, and that they must, in most cases, send their _sons_ to school, if it be necessary for them to have _book-learning_. But while I say this, I know, that there are _many things_, which I did, which many fathers might do, and which, nevertheless, _they do not do_. It is in the power of _every father_ to live _at home with his family_, when not _compelled_ by business, or by public duty, to be absent: it is in his power to set an example of industry and sobriety and frugality, and to prevent a taste for gaming, dissipation, extravagance, from getting root in the minds of his children: it is in his power to continue to make his children _hearers_, when he is reproving servants for idleness, or commending them for industry and care: it is in his power to keep all dissolute and idly-talking companions from his house: it is in his power to teach them, by his uniform example, justice and mercy towards the inferior animals: it is in his power to do many other things, and something in the way of book-learning too, however busy his life may be.

It is completely within his power to teach them early-rising and early going to bed; and, if many a man, who says that he has _not time_ to teach his children, were to sit down, in _sincerity_, with a pen and a bit of paper, and put down all the minutes, which he, in every twenty-four hours, _wastes_ over the _bottle_, or over _cheese_ and _oranges_ and _raisins_ and _biscuits_, _after_ he has _dined_; how many he lounges away, either at the coffee-house or at home, over the _useless_ part of newspapers; how many he spends in waiting for the coming and the managing of the tea-table; how many he pa.s.ses by candle-light, _wearied of his existence_, when he might be in bed; how many he pa.s.ses in the morning in bed, while the sun and dew shine and sparkle for him in vain: if he were to put all these together, and were to add those which he pa.s.ses in the _reading of books_ for his mere personal _amus.e.m.e.nt_, and without the smallest chance of acquiring from them any _useful_ practical knowledge: if he were to sum up the whole of these, and add to them the time worse than wasted in the contemptible work of dressing off _his person_, he would be frightened at the result; would send for his boys from school; and if greater book-learning than he possessed were necessary, he would choose for the purpose some man of ability, and see the teaching carried on under his own roof, with safety as to morals, and with the best chance as to health.

308. If after all, however, a school must be resorted to, let it, if in your power, be as little populous as possible. As 'evil communications corrupt good manners,' so the more numerous the a.s.semblage, and the more extensive the communication, the greater the chance of corruption.

_Jails, barracks, factories_, do not corrupt by their _walls_, but by their condensed numbers. Populous cities corrupt from the same cause; and it is, because _it must be_, the same with regard to schools, out of which children come not what they were when they went in. The master is, in some sort, their enemy; he is their overlooker; he is a spy upon them; his authority is maintained by his absolute power of punishment; _the parent commits them to that power_; to be taught is to be held in restraint; and, as the sparks fly upwards, the teaching and the restraint will not be divided in the estimation of the boy. Besides all this, there is the great disadvantage of _tardiness_ in arriving at years of discretion. If boys live only with boys, their ideas will continue to be boyish; if they see and hear and converse with n.o.body but boys, how are they to have the thoughts and the character of men? It is, _at last_, only by hearing _men_ talk and seeing men act, that they learn to talk and act like men; and, therefore, to confine them to the society of boys, is to _r.e.t.a.r.d_ their arrival at the years of discretion; and in case of adverse circ.u.mstances in the pecuniary way, where, in all the creation, is there so helpless a mortal as a boy who has always been at school! But, if, as I said before, a school there _must_ be, let the congregation be as small as possible; and, do not expect too much from the master; for, if it be irksome to you to teach your own sons, what must that teaching be to him? If he have great numbers, he must delegate his authority; and, like all other delegated authority, it will either be abused or neglected.

309. With regard to _girls_, one would think that _mothers_ would want no argument to make them shudder at the thought of committing the care of their daughters to other hands than their own. If fortune have so favoured them as to make them rationally desirous that their daughters should have more of what are called accomplishments _than_ they _themselves have_, it has also favoured them with the means of having teachers under their own eye. If it have not favoured them so highly as this (and it seldom has in the middle rank of life), what duty so sacred as that imposed on a mother to be the teacher of her daughters! And is she, from love of ease or of pleasure or of any thing else, to neglect this duty; is she to commit her daughters to the care of persons, with whose manners and morals it is impossible for her to be thoroughly acquainted; is she to send them into the promiscuous society of girls, who belong to n.o.body knows whom, and come from n.o.body knows whither, and some of whom, for aught she can know to the contrary, may have been corrupted before, and sent thither to be hidden from their former circle; is she to send her daughters to be shut up within walls, the bare sight of which awaken the idea of intrigue and invite to seduction and surrender; is she to leave the health of her daughters to chance, to shut them up with a motley bevy of strangers, some of whom, as is _frequently_ the case, are proclaimed _b.a.s.t.a.r.ds_, by the undeniable testimony given by the _colour of their skin_; is she to do all this, and still put forward pretensions to the authority and the affection due to a _mother_! And, are you to permit all this, and still call yourself _a father_!

310. Well, then, having resolved to teach your own children, or, to have them taught, at home, let us now see how they ought to proceed as to _books_ for learning. It is evident, speaking of boys, that, at last, they must study the art, or science, that you intend them to pursue; if they be to be surgeons, they must read books on surgery; and the like in other cases. But, there are certain _elementary_ studies; certain books to be used by _all persons_, who are destined to acquire any book-learning at all. Then there are departments, or branches of knowledge, that every man in the middle rank of life, ought, if he can, to acquire, they being, in some sort, necessary to his reputation as a _well-informed_ man, a character to which the farmer and the shopkeeper ought to aspire as well as the lawyer and the surgeon. Let me now, then, offer my advice as to the _course_ of reading, and the _manner_ of reading, for a boy, arrived at his _fourteenth_ year, that being, in my opinion, early enough for him to begin.

311. And, first of all, whether as to boys or girls, I deprecate _romances_ of every description. It is impossible that they can do any _good_, and they may do a great deal of harm. They excite pa.s.sions that ought to lie dormant; they give the mind a taste for _highly-seasoned_ matter; they make matters of real life insipid; every girl, addicted to them, sighs to be a SOPHIA WESTERN, and every boy, a TOM JONES. What girl is not in love with the _wild_ youth, and what boy does not find a justification for his wildness? What can be more pernicious than the teachings of this celebrated romance? Here are two young men put before us, both sons of the same mother; the one a _b.a.s.t.a.r.d_ (and by a parson too), the other a _legitimate child_; the former wild, disobedient, and squandering; the latter steady, sober, obedient, and frugal; the former every thing that is frank and generous in his nature, the latter a greedy hypocrite; the former rewarded with the most beautiful and virtuous of women and a double estate, the latter punished by being made an outcast. How is it possible for young people to read such a book, and to look upon orderliness, sobriety, obedience, and frugality, as _virtues_? And this is the tenor of almost every romance, and of almost every play, in our language. In the 'School for Scandal,' for instance, we see two brothers; the one a prudent and frugal man, and, to all appearance, a moral man, the other a hair-brained squanderer, laughing at the morality of his brother; the former turns out to be a base hypocrite and seducer, and is brought to shame and disgrace; while the latter is found to be full of generous sentiment, and Heaven itself seems to interfere to give him fortune and fame. In short, the direct tendency of the far greater part of these books, is, to cause young people to despise all those virtues, without the practice of which they must be a curse to their parents, a burden to the community, and must, except by mere accident, lead wretched lives. I do not recollect one romance nor one