this unpleasant extremity—appear to be even affected at it—speak to her, in the presence of others, of the melancholy state of those whose want of reason and good conduct have forced correction upon them; and keep back the ordinary marks of reconciliation, till you see she stands in need of consolation. This chastisement may be either public or private, as it may benefit the child—either in covering her with shame, or shewing her how she has been spared such a mortification—a public exposition should, however, never be resorted to but in the last extremity. It may be as well sometimes to make use of a rational person to perform the office of mediator—who might console the child, and mention such things which would be improper for yourself to do—who might cure her of false shame, and induce her to come to you for reconciliation—and to whom the child, in the emotions of her heart, would open herself more freely than she would dare to do to yourself. Above all, let it be manifest that you never exact from a child more than necessary submission: endeavour to effect it so that she may pass her own condemnation, and that you have little else to do but assuage the anguish she has herself inflicted. General rules ought to be adopted as particular occasions may justify: men, and especially children, do not always resemble themselves—that which is good to-day, may be bad to-morrow; a conduct stubbornly uniform can never be advantageous.

The fewer formal lessons that are inculcated, the better. A thousand modes of instruction may be adopted in the freedom of conversation, more useful than lessons themselves. I have known many children who have learnt to read during their play; we need only relate to them some diverting story from a book opened in their presence, and make them insensibly become acquainted with their letters; after this, they will themselves be anxious to arrive at the source which has afforded them such amusement.

There are two circumstances which spoil every thing; namely, teaching them at first to read in a foreign tongue³—which takes away all pleasure in reading; and making them read with a forced and ridiculous emphasis. Give them a book handsomely bound, with neat cuts, and printed with a fine type; every thing which delights the fancy, facilitates study: we should even let them have a book full of short and marvellous stories. After this, do not be uneasy about the child's learning to read—do not fatigue her by requiring too great a precision; let her pronounce naturally as she speaks: other tones are always bad, and partake of the declamation of the stage. When the tongue has acquired sufficient volubility, the chest strength, and the habit of reading been confirmed, she will then read without pain, and with more grace and distinctness.

The manner of teaching to write should be pretty nearly the same. When children can read a little, one may amuse them in making them sort the letters; and if there are several pupils, emulation may be kindled. Children are naturally inclined to make figures on paper; and if this propensity be encouraged, without teasing them too much, they will form letters during their play, and accustom themselves by degrees to write. One may also encourage them by the promise of a reward adapted to their taste, and which has no unpleasant consequences.

"Write me a note," you may say, "inform your brother or cousin of such and such things:" all this (varied as you like) pleases a child, provided that no sad idea of a formal lesson intrude. "A free curiosity," says St. Austin, from his own experience, "excites the mental faculties of a child, much more than the formality of rules, or a constraint imposed by fear."

Observe this grand defect in ordinary educations—all pleasure is placed on one side, and pain on the other: the latter is attached to study, the former to play. What then can be expected from a child, but that, in supporting one of these maxims, she will eagerly fly to her amusements?

Let us try to invert this order: let us make study agreeable, concealing it under the form of liberty and pleasure: the dull routine of continued application may be sometimes broken in upon by little sallies of amusement. Children require these relaxations to preserve the elasticity of their mind.

Let their imaginations roam a little. Permit occasionally some game or diversion, so that ample bounds be given to their spirits; then bring them gently back again to the principal object you have in view. Too rigid or too long continued an application to study, is productive of much injury: those who affect this regularity, act more from the convenience of stated hours of discipline, than from wishing to seize every favourable moment of instruction. At the same time, do not suffer any amusement which may agitate the passions of children: on the contrary, every thing which can unbend their faculties, produce an agreeable variety, satisfy a curiosity for useful things, and exercise their body in healthful recreations, should be recommended and practiced in their diversions. The amusements which they like best, are those that keep the body in motion; they are happy if they can but skip from place to place: a shuttle-cock or a ball is sufficient. We should not, however, be uneasy about their diversions; they invent quite enough themselves—it is sufficient if we leave them to their own inventions, watch them with a cheerful countenance, and moderate them when they become too violent. It would be prudent just to make them sensible, as much and as often as we can, of the pleasure which results from the cultivation of the mind; such as conversation, news, histories, and many industrious games which include instruction. All this will have its proper effect in due time: but we should not force the feelings of children on this subject; we should only make overtures to them. The period will arrive when their bodies will be inclined to move less, and their minds, more.

The care which is taken to season study with amusement, will operate favourably in abating the ardour of youth for dangerous diversions. It is subjection and ennui that beget an impatience for amusement. If a daughter felt less restraint in the presence of a mother, she would not be so anxious to steal away in search of indifferent society.

In choosing diversions, care must be taken to avoid all suspicious companions. Boys must not mingle with girls; even girls of an unruly and froward disposition must be rejected. Games which excite passion, and thoughtlessness, or which produce an improper attitude of the body—frequent visiting abroad, and conversations which give rise to such visits—should be uniformly avoided. When a child is not spoilt by any rude diversion, or is not stimulated by any ardent passion, it will easily find pleasure and content: health and innocence are the sure sources of both: but those who have been accustomed to violent amusements, lose all relish for moderate pleasure, and weary themselves in a restless search after happiness.

There may be a satiated taste for amusements, as well as for food: one may be so accustomed to high-seasoned dishes, that a simple and common diet will become flat and insipid. Let us, therefore, be on