CHAPTER XXV.

SUMMARY.

"The general principle," that we should associate pleasure with

whatever we wish that our pupils should pursue, and pain with whatever

we wish that they should avoid, forms, our readers will perceive, the

basis of our plan of education. This maxim, applied to the cultivation

of the understanding, or of the affections, will, we apprehend, be

equally successful; virtues, as well as abilities, or what is

popularly called genius, we believe to be the result of education, not

the gift of nature. A fond mother will tremble at the idea, that so

much depends upon her own care in the early education of her children;

but, even though she may be inexperienced in the art, she may be

persuaded that patience and perseverance will ensure her success: even

from her timidity we may prophesy favourably; for, in education, to

know the danger, is often to avoid it. The first steps require rather

caution and gentle kindness, than any difficult or laborious

exertions: the female sex are, from their situation, their manners,

and talents, peculiarly suited to the superintendence of the early

years of childhood. We have, therefore, in the first chapters of the

preceding work, endeavoured to adapt our remarks principally to female

readers, and we shall think ourselves happy, if any anxious mother

feels their practical utility.

In the chapters on Toys, Tasks, and Attention, we have attempted to

show how the instruction and amusements of children may be so managed

as to coincide with each other. _Play_, we have observed, is only a

change of occupation; and toys, to be permanently agreeable to

children, must afford them continued employment. We have declared war

against _tasks_, or rather against the train of melancholy, which,

associated with this word, usually render it odious to the ears of the

disgusted scholar. By kind patience, and well timed, distinct, and

above all, by short lessons, a young child may be initiated in the

mysteries of learning, and in the first principles of knowledge,

without fatigue, or punishment, or tears. No matter how little be

learned in a given time, provided the pupil be not disgusted; provided

the wish to improve be excited, and the habits of attention be

acquired. Attention we consider as the faculty of the mind which is

essential to the cultivation of all its other powers.

It is essential to success in what are called accomplishments, or

talents, as well as to our progress in the laborious arts or abstract

sciences. Believing so much to depend upon this faculty or habit, we

have taken particular pains to explain the practical methods by which

it may be improved. The general maxims, that the attention of young

people should at first be exercised but for very short periods; that

they should never be urged to the point of fatigue; that pleasure,

especially the great pleasure of success, should be associated with

the exertions of the pupil; are applicable to children of all tempers.

The care which has been recommended, in the use of words, to convey

uniformly distinct ideas, will, it is hoped, be found advantageous. We

have, without entering into the speculative question concerning the

original differences of temper and genius, offered such observations

as we thought might be useful in cultivating the attention of

vivacious, and indolent children; whether their idleness or indolence

proceed from nature, or from mistaken modes of instruction, we have

been anxious to point out means of curing their defects; and, from our

successful experience with pupils apparently of opposite dispositions,

we have ventured to assert with some confidence, that no parent should

despair of correcting a child's defects; that no preceptor should

despair of producing in his pupil the species of abilities which his

education steadily tends to form. These are encouraging hopes, but not

flattering promises. Having just opened these bright views to parents,

we have paused to warn them, that all their expectations, all their

cares, will be in vain, unless they have sufficient prudence and

strength of mind to follow a certain mode of conduct with respect to

servants, and with respect to common acquaintance. More failures in

private education have been occasioned by the interference of servants

and acquaintance, than from any other cause. It is impossible, we

repeat it in the strongest terms, it is impossible that parents can be

successful in the education of their children at home, unless they

have steadiness enough to resist all interference from visiters and

acquaintance, who from thoughtless kindness, or a busy desire to

administer advice, are apt to counteract the views of a preceptor; and

who often, in a few minutes, undo the work of years. When our pupils

have formed their habits, and have reason and experience sufficient to

guide them, let them be left as free as air; let them choose their

friends and acquaintance; let them see the greatest variety of

characters, and hear the greatest variety of conversation and

opinions: but whilst they are children, whilst they are destitute of

the means to judge, their parents or preceptors must supply their

deficient reason; and authority, without violence, should direct them

to their happiness. They must see, that all who are concerned in

their education, agree in the means of governing them; in all their

commands and prohibitions, in the distribution of praise and blame, of

reward and punishment, there must be unanimity. Where there does not

exist this unanimity in families; where parents have not sufficient

firmness to prevent the interference of acquaintance, and sufficient

prudence to keep children _from all private communication with

servants_, we earnestly advise that the children be sent to some

public seminary of education. We have taken some pains to detail the

methods by which all hurtful communication between children and

servants, in a well regulated family, may be avoided, and we have

asserted, from the experience of above twenty years, that these

methods have been found not only practicable, but easy.

In the chapters on Obedience, Temper and Truth, the general principle,

that pleasure should excite to exertion and virtue, and that pain

should be connected with whatever we wish our pupils to avoid, is

applied to practice with a minuteness of detail which we knew not how

to avoid. Obedience we have considered as a relative, rather than as a

positive, virtue: before children are able to conduct themselves,

their obedience must be rendered habitual: obedience alters its nature

as the pupil becomes more and more rational; and the only method to

secure the obedience, the willing, enlightened obedience of rational

beings, is to convince them by experience, that it tends to their

happiness. Truth depends upon example more than precept; and we have

endeavoured to impress it on the minds of all who are concerned in

education, that the first thing necessary to teach their pupils to

love truth, is in their whole conduct to respect it themselves. We

have reprobated the artifices sometimes used by preceptors towards

their pupils; we have shown that all confidence is destroyed by these

deceptions. May they never more be attempted! May parents unite in

honest detestation of these practices! Children are not fools, and

they are not to be governed like fools. Parents who adhere to the firm

principle of truth, may be certain of the respect and confidence of

their children. Children who never see the example of falsehood, will

grow up with a simplicity of character, with an habitual love of

truth, that must surprise preceptors who have seen the propensity to

deceit which early appears in children who have had the misfortune to

live with servants, or with persons who have the habits of meanness

and cunning. We have advised, that children, before their habits are

formed, should never be exposed to temptations to deceive; that no

questions should be asked them which hazard their young integrity;

that as they grow older, they should gradually be trusted; and that

they should be placed in situations where they may feel the advantages

both of speaking truth, and of obtaining a character for integrity.

The perception of the utility of this virtue to the individual, and to

society, will confirm the habitual reverence in which our pupils have

been taught to hold it. As young people become reasonable, the nature

of their habits and of their education should be explained to them,

and their virtues, from being virtues of custom, should be rendered

virtues of choice and reason. It is easier to confirm good habits by

the conviction of the understanding, than to induce habits in

consequence of that conviction. This principle we have pursued in the

chapter on Rewards and Punishments; we have not considered punishment

as vengeance or retaliation, but as _pain inflicted with the

reasonable hope of procuring some future advantage to the delinquent,

or to society_. The smallest possible quantity of pain that can effect

this purpose, we suppose, must, with all just and humane persons, be

the measure of punishment. This notion of punishment, both for the

sake of the preceptor and the pupil, should be clearly explained as

early as it can be made intelligible. As to rewards, we do not wish

that they should be bribes; they should stimulate, without weakening

the mind. The consequences which naturally follow every species of

good conduct, are the proper and best rewards that we can devise;

children whose understandings are cultivated, and whose tempers are

not spoiled, will be easily made happy without the petty bribes which

are administered daily to ill educated, ignorant, over stimulated,

and, consequently, wretched and ill humoured children. Far from making

childhood a state of continual penance, restraint, and misery, we wish

that it should be made a state of uniform happiness; that parents and

preceptors should treat their pupils with as much equality and

kindness as the improving reason of children justifies. The views of

children should be extended to their future advantage,[111] and they

should consider childhood as a part of their existence, not as a

certain number of years which must be passed over before they can

enjoy any of the pleasures of life, before they can enjoy any of the

privileges of _grown up people_. Preceptors should not accustom their

pupils to what they call indulgence, but should give them the utmost

degree of present pleasure which is consistent with their future

advantage. Would it not be folly and cruelty to give present pleasure

at the expense of a much larger portion of future pain? When children

acquire experience and reason, they rejudge the conduct of those who

have educated them; and their confidence and their gratitude will be

in exact proportion to the wisdom and justice with which they have

been governed.

It was necessary to explain at large these ideas of rewards and

punishments, that we might clearly see our way in the progress of

education. After having determined, that our object is to obtain for

our pupils the greatest possible portion of felicity; after having

observed, that no happiness can be enjoyed in society without the

social virtues, without the _useful_ and the _agreeable_ qualities;

our view naturally turns to the means of forming these virtues, of

ensuring these essential qualities. On our sympathy with our fellow

creatures depend many of our social virtues; from our ambition to

excel our competitors, arise many of our most _useful_ and _agreeable_

actions. We have considered these principles of action as they depend

on each other, and as they are afterwards separated. Sympathy and

sensibility, uninformed by reason, cannot be proper guides to action.

We have endeavoured to show how sympathy may be improved into virtue.

Children should not see the deformed expression of the malevolent

passions in the countenance of those who live with them: before the

habits are formed, before sympathy has any rule to guide itself, it is

necessarily determined by example. Benevolence and affectionate

kindness from parents to children, first inspire the pleasing emotions

of love and gratitude. Sympathy is not able to contend with passion or

appetite: we should therefore avoid placing children in painful

competition with one another. We love those from whom we receive

pleasure. To make children fond of each other, we must make them the

cause of pleasure to each other; we must place them in situations

where no passion or appetite crosses their natural sympathy. We have

spoken of the difference between transient, convivial sympathy, and

that higher species of sympathy which, connected with esteem,

constitutes friendship. We have exhorted parents not to exhaust

imprudently the sensibility of their children; not to lavish caresses

upon their infancy, and cruelly to withdraw their kindness when their

children have learned to expect the daily stimulus of affection. The

idea of exercising sensibility we have endeavoured to explain, and to

show, that if we require premature gratitude and generosity from young

people, we shall only teach them affectation and hypocrisy. We have

slightly touched on the dangers of excessive female sensibility, and

have suggested, that useful, active employments, and the cultivation

of the reasoning faculty, render sympathy and sensibility more

respectable, and not less graceful.

In treating of vanity, pride, and ambition, we have been more

indulgent to vanity than our _proud_ readers will approve. We hope,

however, not to be misunderstood; we hope that we shall not appear to

be admirers of that mean and ridiculous foible, which is anxiously

concealed by all who have any desire to obtain esteem. We cannot,

however, avoid thinking it is a contradiction to inspire young people

with a wish to excel, and at the same time to insist upon their

repressing all expressions of satisfaction if they succeed. The desire

to obtain the good opinion of others, is a strong motive to exertion:

this desire cannot be discriminative in children before they have any

knowledge of the comparative value of different qualities, and before

they can estimate the consequent value of the applause of different

individuals. We have endeavoured to show how, from appealing at first

to the opinions of others, children may be led to form judgments of

their own actions, and to appeal to their own minds for approbation.

The sense of duty and independent self-complacency may gradually be

substituted in the place of weak, ignorant vanity. There is not much

danger that young people, whose understandings are improved, and who

mix gradually with society, should not be able to repress those

offensive expressions of vanity or pride, which are disagreeable to

the feelings of the "impartial spectators." We should rather let the

vanity of children find its own level, than attempt any artificial

adjustments; they will learn propriety of manners from observation and

experience; we should have patience with their early uncivilized

presumption, lest we, by premature restraints, check the energy of the

mind, and induce the cold, feeble vice of hypocrisy. In their own

family, among the friends whom they ought to love and esteem, let

children, with simple, unreserved vivacity, express the good opinion

they have of themselves. It is infinitely better that they should be

allowed this necessary expansion of self-complacency in the company of

their superiors, than that it should be repressed by the cold hand of

authority, and afterwards be displayed in the company of inferiors and

sycophants. We have endeavoured to distinguish between the proper and

improper use of praise as a motive in education: we have considered it

as a stimulus which, like all other excitements, is serviceable or

pernicious, according to the degree in which it is used, and the

circumstances in which it is applied.

Whilst we have thus been examining the general means of educating the

heart and the understanding, we have avoided entering minutely into

the technical methods of obtaining certain parts of knowledge. It was

essential, in the first place, to show, how the desire of knowledge

was to be excited; what acquirements are most desirable, and how they

are to be most easily obtained, are the next considerations. In the

chapter on Books--Classical Literature and Grammar--Arithmetic and

Geometry--Geography and Astronomy--Mechanics and Chemistry--we have

attempted to show, how a taste for literature may early be infused

into the minds of children, and how the rudiments of science, and some

general principles of knowledge, may be acquired, without disgusting

the pupil, or fatiguing him by unceasing application. We have, in

speaking of the choice of books for children, suggested the general

principles, by which a selection may be safely made; and by minute,

but we hope not invidious, criticism, we have illustrated our

principles so as to make them practically useful.

The examination of M. Condillac's Cours d'Etude was meant to

illustrate our own sentiments, more than to attack a particular

system. Far from intending to depreciate this author, we think most

highly of his abilities; but we thought it necessary to point out some

practical errours in his mode of instruction. Without examples from

real life, we should have wandered, as many others of far superior

abilities have already wandered, in the shadowy land of theory.

In our chapters on Grammar, Arithmetic, Mechanics, Chemistry, &c. all

that we have attempted has been to recall to preceptors the

difficulties which they once experienced, and to trace those early

footsteps which time insensibly obliterates. How few possess, like

Faruknaz in the Persian tale, the happy art of transfusing their own

souls into the bosoms of others!

We shall not pity the reader whom we have dragged through Garretson's

Exercises, if we can save one trembling little pilgrim from that

"slough of despond." We hope that the patient, quiet mode of teaching

classical literature, which we have found to succeed in a few

instances, may be found equally successful in others; we are not

conscious of having exaggerated, and we sincerely wish that some

intelligent, benevolent parents may verify our experiments upon their

own children.

The great difficulty which has been found in attempts to instruct

children in science, has, we apprehend, arisen from the theoretic

manner in which preceptors have proceeded. The knowledge that cannot

be immediately applied to use, has no interest for children, has no

hold upon their memories; they may learn the principles of mechanics,

or geometry, or chemistry; but if they have no means of applying their

knowledge, it is quickly forgotten, and nothing but the disgust

connected with the recollection of useless labour remains in the

pupil's mind. It has been our object, in treating of these subjects,

to show how they may be made interesting to young people; and for this

purpose we should point out to them, in the daily, active business of

life, the practical use of scientific knowledge. Their senses should

be exercised in experiments, and these experiments should be simple,

distinct, and applicable to some object in which our pupils are

immediately interested. We are not solicitous about the quantity of

knowledge that is obtained at any given age, but we are extremely

anxious that the desire to learn should continually increase, and

that whatever is taught should be taught with that perspicuity, which

improves the general understanding. If the first principles of science

are once clearly understood, there is no danger that the pupil should

not, at any subsequent period of his life, improve his practical

skill, and increase his knowledge to whatever degree he thinks proper.

We have hitherto proceeded without discussing the comparative

advantages of public or private education. Whether children are to be

educated at home, or to be sent to public seminaries, the same course

of education, during the first years of their lives, should be

pursued; and the preparatory care of parents is essential to the

success of the public preceptor. We have admitted the necessity of

public schools, and, in the present state of society, we acknowledge

that many parents have it not in their power properly to superintend

the private education of a family. We have earnestly advised parents

not to attempt private education without first calculating the

difficulties of the undertaking; we have pointed out that, by

co-operating with the public instructer, parents may assist in the

formation of their children's characters, without undertaking the sole

management of their classical instruction. A private education, upon a

calm survey of the advantages of both systems, we prefer, because more

is in the power of the private than of the public instructer. One

uniform course of experience may be preserved, and no examples, but

those which we wish to have followed, need be seen by those children

who are brought up at home. When we give our opinion in favour of

private education, we hope that all we have said on servants and on

acquaintance will be full in the reader's recollection. No private

education, we repeat it, can succeed without perfect unanimity,

consistency, and steadiness, amongst all the individuals in the

family.

We have recommended to parents the highest liberality as the highest

prudence, in rewarding the care of enlightened preceptors. Ye great

and opulent parents, condescend to make your children happy: provide

for yourselves the cordial of domestic affection against "that

sickness of long life--old age."

In what we have said of governesses, masters, and the value of female

accomplishments, we have considered not only what is the fashion of

to-day, but rather what is likely to be the fashion of ten or twenty

years hence. Mothers will look back, and observe how much the system

of female education has altered within their own memory; and they will

see, with "the prophetic eye of taste," what may probably be the

fashion of another spring--another race.[112] We have endeavoured to

substitute the words _domestic happiness_ instead of the present

terms, "success in the world--fortunate establishments," &c. This will

lead, perhaps, at first, to some confusion in the minds of those who

have been long used to the old terms: but the new vocabulary has its

advantages; the young and unprejudiced will, perhaps, perceive them,

and maternal tenderness will calculate with more precision, but not

with less eagerness, the chances of happiness according to the new and

old tables of interest.

Sectary-metaphysicians, if any of this description should ever deign

to open a book that has a _practical_ title, will, we fear, be

disappointed in our chapters on Memory--Imagination and Judgment. They

will not find us the partisans of any system, and they will probably

close the volume with supercilious contempt. We endeavour to console

ourselves by the hope, that men of sense and candour will be more

indulgent, and will view with more complacency an attempt to collect

from all metaphysical writers, those observations, which can be

immediately of practical use in education. Without any pompous

pretensions, we have given a sketch of what we have been able to

understand and ascertain of the history of the mind. On some

subjects, the wisest of our readers will at least give us credit for

knowing that we are ignorant.

We do not set that high value upon Memory, which some preceptors are

inclined to do. From all that we have observed, we believe that few

people are naturally deficient in this faculty; though in many it may

have been so injudiciously cultivated as to induce the spectators to

conclude, that there was some original defect in the retentive power.

The recollective power is less cultivated than it ought to be, by the

usual modes of education: and this is one reason why so few pupils

rise above mediocrity. They lay up treasures for moths to corrupt;

they acquire a quantity of knowledge, they learn a multitude of words

by rote, and they cannot produce a single fact, or a single idea, in

the moment when it is wanted: they collect, but they cannot combine.

We have suggested the means of cultivating the inventive faculty at

the same time that we store the memory; we have shown, that on the

order in which ideas are presented to the mind, depends the order in

which they will recur to the memory; and we have given examples from

the histories of great men and little children, of the reciprocal

assistance which the memory and the inventive powers afford each

other.

In speaking of Taste, it has been our wish to avoid prejudice and

affectation. We have advised that children should early be informed,

that the principles of taste depend upon casual, arbitrary, variable

associations. This will prevent our pupils from falling into the

vulgar errour of being amazed and _scandalized_ at the tastes of other

times and other nations. The beauties of nature and the productions of

art, which are found to be most generally pleasing, we should

associate with pleasure in the mind: but we ought not to expect that

children should admire those works of imagination which suggest,

instead of expressing, ideas. Until children have acquired the

language, until they have all the necessary trains of ideas, many of

the finest strokes of genius in oratory, poetry, and painting, must

to them be absolutely unintelligible.

In a moral point of view, we have treated of the false associations

which have early influence upon the imagination, and produce the

furious passions and miserable vices. The false associations which

first inspire the young and innocent mind with the love of wealth, of

power, or what is falsely called pleasure, are pointed out; and some

practical hints are offered to parents, which it is hoped may tend to

preserve their children from these moral insanities.

We do not think that persons who are much used to children, will

quarrel with us for what we have said of early prodigies of wit.

People, who merely talk to children for the amusement of the moment,

may admire their "lively nonsense," and will probably think the

simplicity of mind that we prefer, is downright stupidity. The habit

of reasoning is seldom learned by children who are much taken notice

of for their sprightly repartees; but we have observed that children,

after they have learned to reason, as they grow up and become

acquainted with the manners and customs of the world, are by no means

deficient in talents for conversation, and in that species of wit

which depends upon the perception of analogy between ideas, rather

than a play upon words. At all events, we would rather that our pupils

should be without the brilliancy of wit, than the solid and essential

power of judgment.

To cultivate the judgment of children, we must begin by teaching them

accurately to examine and compare such external objects as are

immediately obvious to their senses; when they begin to argue, we must

be careful to make them explain their terms and abide by them. In

books and conversation, they must avoid all bad reasoning, nor should

they ever be encouraged in the quibbling habit of arguing for victory.

Prudence we consider as compounded of judgment and resolution. When we

teach children to reflect upon and compare their own feelings, when we

frequently give them their _choice_ in things that are interesting to

them, we educate them to be prudent. We cannot teach this virtue until

children have had some experience; as far as their experience goes,

their prudence may be exercised. Those who reflect upon their own

feelings, and find out exactly what it is that makes them happy, are

taught wisdom by a very few distinct lessons. Even fools, it is said,

grow wise by experience, but it is not until they grow old under her

rigid discipline.

Economy is usually understood to mean prudence in the management of

money; we have used this word in a more enlarged sense. Children, we

have observed, may be economic of any thing that is trusted to their

charge; until they have some use for money, they need not be troubled

or tempted with it: if all the necessaries and conveniences of life

are provided for them, they must spend whatever is given to them as

pocket money, in superfluities. This habituates them early to

extravagance. We do not apprehend that young people should be

entrusted with money, till they have been some time used to manage the

money business of others. They may be taught to keep the accounts of a

family, from which they will learn the price and value of different

commodities. All this, our readers will perceive, is nothing more than

the application of the different reasoning powers to different

objects.

We have thus slightly given a summary of the chapters in the preceding

work, to recall the whole in a connected view to the mind; a few

simple principles run through the different parts; all the purposes of

practical education tend to one distinct object; to render our pupils

good and wise, that they may enjoy the greatest possible share of

happiness at present and in future.

Parental care and anxiety, the hours devoted to the instruction of a

family, will not be thrown away; if parents have the patience to wait

for their reward, that reward will far surpass their most sanguine

expectations: they will find in their children agreeable companions,

sincere and affectionate friends. Whether they live in retirement, or

in the busy world, they will feel their interest in life increase,

their pleasures multiplied by sympathy with their beloved pupils; they

will have a happy home. How much is comprised in that single

expression! The gratitude of their pupils will continually recall to

their minds the delightful reflection, that the felicity of their

whole family is their work; that the virtues and talents of their

children are the necessary consequences of good education.

FOOTNOTES:

[110]

"Turn from the glittering bribe your scornful eye, Nor sell for gold

what gold can never buy."

_Johnson's London._

[111] Emilius.

[112] "Another spring, another race supplies." Pope's Homer.

NOTES,

CONTAINING CONVERSATIONS AND ANECDOTES OF CHILDREN.

Several years ago a mother,[113] who had a large family to educate,

and who had turned her attention with much solicitude to the subject

of education, resolved to write notes from day to day of all the

trifling things which mark the progress of the mind in childhood. She

was of opinion, that the art of education should be considered as an

experimental science, and that many authors of great abilities had

mistaken their road by following theory instead of practice. The title

of "_Practical Education_" was chosen by this lady, and prefixed to a

little book for children, which she began, but did not live to finish.

The few notes which remain of her writing, are preserved, not merely

out of respect to her memory, but because it is thought that they may

be useful. Her plan of keeping a register of the remarks of children,

has at intervals been pursued in her family; a number of these

anecdotes have been interspersed in this work; a few, which did not

seem immediately to suit the didactic nature of any of our chapters,

remain, and with much hesitation and diffidence are offered to the

public. We have selected such anecdotes as may in some measure

illustrate the principles that we have endeavoured to establish; and

we hope, that from these trifling, but genuine conversations of

children and parents, the reader will distinctly perceive the

difference, between practical and theoretic education. As some further

apology for offering them to the public, we recur to a passage in Dr.

Reid's[114] Essays, which encourages an attempt to study minutely the

minds of children.

"If we could obtain a distinct and full history of all that hath

passed in the mind of a child from the beginning of life and sensation

till it grows up to the use of reason, how its infant faculties began

to work, and how they brought forth and ripened all the various

notions, opinions, and sentiments, which we find in ourselves when we

come to be capable of reflection, this would be a treasure of natural

history which would probably give more light into the human faculties,

than all the systems of philosophers about them, from the beginning of

the world."

The reader, we hope, will not imagine that we think we can present him

with this treasure of natural history; we have only a few scattered

notices, as Bacon would call them, to offer; perhaps, even this slight

attempt may awaken the attention of persons equal to the undertaking:

if able preceptors and parents would pursue a similar plan, we might,

in time, hope to obtain a full history of the infant mind.

It may occur to parents, that writing notes of the remarks of children

would lessen their freedom and simplicity in conversation; this would

certainly be the case if care were not taken to prevent the pupils

from thinking of the _note-book_.[115] The following notes were never

seen by the children who are mentioned in them, and though it was in

general known in the family that such notes were taken, the particular

remarks that were written down, were never known to the pupils: nor

was any curiosity excited upon this subject. The attempt would have

been immediately abandoned, if we had perceived that it produced any

bad consequences. The simple language of childhood has been preserved

without alteration in the following notes; and as we could not devise

any better arrangement, we have followed the order of time, and we

have constantly inserted the ages of the children, for the

satisfaction of preceptors and parents, to whom alone these infantine

anecdotes can be interesting: We say nothing farther as to their

accuracy; if the reader does not see in the anecdotes themselves

internal marks of veracity, all we could say would be of no avail.

X---- (a girl of five years old) asked why a piece of paper fell

quickly to the ground when rumpled up, and why so slowly when opened.

Y---- (a girl of three years and a half old) seeing her sister taken

care of and nursed when she had chilblains, said, that she wished to

have chilblains.

Z---- (a girl between two and three) when her mother was putting on

her bonnet, and when she was going out to walk, looked at the cat, and

said with a plaintive voice, "Poor pussey! you have no bonnet,

Pussey!"

X---- (5 years old) asked why she was as tall as the trees when she

was far from them.

Z---- (4 years old) went to church, and when she was there said, "Do

those men do every thing better than we, because they talk so loud,

and I think they read."

It was a country church, and people sang; but the child said, "She

thought they didn't sing, but roared, because they were shut up in

that place, and didn't like it."

L---- (a boy between 3 and 4 years) was standing before a grate with

coals in it, which were not lighted; his mother said to him, "What is

the use of coals?"

_L----._ "To put in your grate."

_Mother._ "Why are they put there?"

_L----._ "To make fire."

_Mother._ "How do they make fire?"

_L----._ "Fire is brought to them."

_Mother._ "How is fire brought to them?"

_L----._ "Fire is brought to them upon a candle and put to them."

L----, a little while afterwards, asked leave to light a candle, and

when a bit of paper was given to him for that purpose, said, "But,

mother, may I take some light out of your fire to put to it?"

This boy had more exact ideas of property than Prometheus had.

Z----, when she was between five and six, said, "Water keeps things

alive, and eating keeps alive children."

_Z----_ (same age) meddling with a fly, said, "she did not hurt it."

"Were you ever a fly?" said her mother. "Not _that I know of_,"

answered the child.

_Z----'s_ father sent her into a room where there were some knives and

forks. "If you meddle with them," said he, "you may cut yourself."

_Z----._ "I won't cut myself."

_Father._ "Can you be sure of that?"

_Z----._ "No, but I can take care."

_Father._ "But if you should cut yourself, would it do you any good?"

_Z----._ "No--Yes."

_Father._ "What good?"

_Z----._ "Not to do so another time."

---- (same age.) Z----'s mother said to her, "Will you give me some of

your fat cheeks?"

_Z----._ "No, I cannot, it would hurt me."

_Mother._ "But if it would not hurt you, would you give me some?"

_Z----._ "No, it would make two holes in my cheeks that would be

disagreeable."

A sentimental mother would, perhaps, have been displeased with the

simple answers of this little girl. (Vide Sympathy and Sensibility.)

The following memorandums of Mrs. H----E----'s (dated 1779) have been

of great use to us in our chapter upon Toys.

"The playthings of children should be calculated to fix their

attention, that they may not get a habit of doing any thing in a

listless manner.

"There are periods as long as two or three months at a time, in the

lives of young children, when their bodies appear remarkably active

and vigorous, and their minds dull and inanimate; they are at these

times incapable of comprehending any new ideas, and forgetful of those

they have already received. When this disposition to exert the bodily

faculties, subsides, children show much restlessness and distaste for

their usual plays. The intervals between meals, appear long to them;

they ask a multitude of questions, and are continually looking forward

to some future good; if at this time any mental employment be

presented to them, they receive it with the utmost avidity, and pursue

it with assiduity; their minds appear to have acquired additional

powers from having remained inactive for a considerable time."

(January 1781.) Z----, (7 years old.) "What are bones made of? My

father says it has not been found out. If I should find it out, I

shall be wiser in that respect than my father."

(April 8th.) _Z----._ "What becomes of the blood when people die?"

_Father._ "It stays in the body."

_Z----._ "I thought it went out of the body; because you told me, that

what we eat was turned into blood, and that blood nourished the body

and kept it alive."

_Father._ "Yes, my dear; but blood must be in motion to keep the body

alive; the heart moves the blood through the arteries and veins, and

the blood comes back again to the heart. We don't know how this motion

is performed. What we eat, is not turned at once into blood; it is

dissolved by something in the stomach, and is turned into something

white like milk, which is called chyle; the chyle passes through

little pipes in the body, called lacteals, and into the veins and

arteries, and becomes blood. But I don't know how. I will show you the

inside of the body of a dead pig: a pig's inside is something like

that of a man."

_Z----_ (same age) when her father had given her an account of a large

stone that was thrown to a considerable distance from Mount Vesuvius

at the time of an eruption, she asked, how the air could keep a large

stone from falling, when it would not support her weight.

Z----, (same age) when she was reading the Roman history, was asked,

what she thought of the conduct of the wife of Asdrubal. Z---- said

she did not like her. She was asked why. The first reason Z---- gave

for not liking the lady, was, "that she spoke loud;" the next, "that

she was unkind to her husband, and killed her children."

We regret (though perhaps our readers may rejoice) that several years

elapsed in which these little notes of the remarks of children were

discontinued. In 1792 the following notes were begun by one of the

same family.

(March, '92.) Mr. ---- saw an Irish giant at Bristol, and when he came

home, Mr. ---- gave his children a description of the giant. His

height, he said, was about eight feet. _S----_ (a boy of five years

old) asked whether this giant had lived much longer than other men.

_Father._ "No; why did you think he had lived longer than other men?"

_S----._ "Because he was so much taller."

_Father._ "Well."

_S----._ "And he had so much more time to grow."

_Father._ "People, after a certain age, do not grow any more. Your

sister M----, and I, and your mother, have not grown any taller since

you can remember, have we?"

_S----._ "No; but I have, and B----, and C----."

_Father._ "Yes; you are children. Whilst people are growing, they are

children; after they have done growing they are called men and women."

(April, '92.) At tea-time, to-day, somebody said that hot chocolate

scalds worse than hot tea or hot water. Mr. ---- asked his children if

they could give any reason for this. They were silent.

Mr. ----. "If water be made as hot as it can be made, and if chocolate

be made as hot as it can be made, the chocolate will scald you the

most. Can you tell me why!"

_C----_ (a girl between eight and nine years old.) "Because there is

oil, I believe, in the chocolate; and because it is thicker, and the

parts closer together, than in tea or water."

_Father._ "What you say is true; but you have not explained the reason

yet. Well, _H----_."

_H----_ (a boy between nine and ten.) "Because there is water in the

bubbles."

_Father._ "Water in the bubbles? I don't understand. Water in what

bubbles?"

_H----._ "I thought I had always seen, when water boils, that there

are a great many little bubbles upon the top."

_Father._ "Well; but what has that to do with the question I asked

you?"

_H----._ "Because the cold air that was in the bubbles, would cool the

water next them, and then"--(he was quite confused, and stopped.)

_B----_ (a girl of ten or eleven years old) spoke next. "I thought

that chocolate was much thicker than water, and there were more parts,

and those parts were closer together, and each could hold but a

certain quantity of heat; and therefore chocolate could be made hotter

than water."

_Father._ "That is a good chemical idea. You suppose that the

chocolate and tea can be _saturated_ with heat. But you have none of

you yet told the reason."

The children were all silent.

_Father._ "Can water ever be made hotter than boiling hot?"

_B----._ "No."

_Father._ "Why?"

_B----._ "I don't know."

_Father._ "What happens to water when it does what we call _boil_?"

_H----._ "It bubbles, and makes a sort of noise."

_B----._ "It turns into steam or vapour, I believe."

_Father._ "All at once?"

_B----._ "No: but what is at the top, first."

_Father._ "Now you see the reason why water can't be made hotter than

boiling hot: for if a certain degree of heat be applied to it, it

changes into the form of vapour, and flies off. When I was a little

boy, I was once near having a dreadful accident. I had not been taught

the nature of water, and steam, and heat, and evaporation; and I

wanted to fill a wet hollow stick with melted lead. The moment I

poured the lead into the stick, the water in the wood turned into

vapour suddenly, and the lead was thrown up with great violence to the

ceiling: my face narrowly escaped. So you see people should know what

they are about before they meddle with things.--But now as to the

chocolate."

No one seemed to have any thing to say about the chocolate.

_Father._ "Water, you know, boils with a certain degree of heat. Will

oil, do you think, boil with the same heat?"

_C----._ "I don't understand."

_Father._ "In the same _degree of heat_ (you must learn to accustom

yourself to those words, though they seem difficult to you)--In the

same heat, do you think water or oil would boil the soonest?"

None of the children knew.

_Father._ "Water would boil the soonest. More heat is necessary to

make oil boil, or turn into vapour, than to make water evaporate. Do

you know of any thing which is used to _determine_, to _show_, and

_mark_, to us the different degrees of heat?"

_B----._ "Yes; a thermometer."

_Father._ "Yes: thermometer comes from two Greek words, one of which

signifies heat, and the other measure. Meter, means measure.

Thermo_meter_ a measurer of heat; baro_meter_, a measurer of the

weight of the air; hygro_meter_, a measurer of moisture. Now, if you

remember, on the thermo_meter_ you have seen these words at a certain

mark, _the heat of boiling water_. The quicksilver, in a thermometer,

rises to that mark when it is exposed to that degree of heat which

will make the water turn into vapour. Now the degree of heat which is

necessary to make oil evaporate, is not marked on the thermometer; but

it requires several degrees more heat to evaporate oil, than is

necessary to evaporate water.--So now you know that chocolate,

containing more oil than is contained in tea, it can be made hotter

before it turns into vapour."

Children may be led to acquire a taste for chemistry by slight hints

in conversation.

(July 22d, 1794.) _Father._ "S----, can you tell me what is meant by a

body's falling?"

_S----_ (seven years old.) "A body's falling, means a body's dying, I

believe."

_Father._ "By _body_, I don't mean a person, but any thing. What is

meant by any thing's falling?"

_S----._ "Coming down from a high place."

_Father._ "What do you mean by a high place?"

_S----._ "A place higher than places usually are; higher than the

ground."

_Father._ "What do you mean by the ground?"

_S----._ "The earth."

_Father._ "What shape do you think the earth is?"

_S----._ "Round."

_Father._ "Why do you think it is round?"

_S----._ "Because I have heard a great many people say so."

_Father._ "The shadow.--It is so difficult to explain to you, my dear,

why we think that the earth is round, that I will not attempt it

_yet_."

It is better, as we have often observed, to avoid all _imperfect_

explanations, which give children confused ideas.

(August 18th, 1794.) Master ---- came to see us, and taught S---- to

fish for minnows. It was explained to S----, that fishing with worms

for baits, tortures the worms. No other argument was used, no

sentimental exclamations made upon the occasion; and S---- fished no

more, nor did he ever mention the subject again.

Children sometimes appear cruel, when in fact they do not know that

they give pain to animals.

(July 27th, 1794.) S---- saw a beautiful rainbow, and he said, "I wish

I could walk over that fine arch."

This is one of the pleasures of Ariel, and of the Sylphs in the Rape

of the Lock. S---- was not praised for a poetic wish, lest he should

have learnt affectation.

(September 3d, 1794.) Mr. ---- attempted to explain to B----, H----,

S----, and C----, the nature of insurance, and the day afterwards he

asked them to explain it to him. They none of them understood it,

except B----, who could not, however, explain it, though she did

understand it. The terms were all new to them, and they had no ships

to insure.

(September 19th.) At dinner to-day, S---- (seven years old) said to

his sister C----, "What is the name of that man that my father was

talking to, that sounded like Idem, Isdal, or Izard, I believe."

"Izard!" said somebody at table, "that name sounds like Lizard; yes,

there is a family of the Lizards in the Guardian."

_S----._ "A real family?"

_Mr. ----._ "No, my dear: a name given to supposed characters."

_M----._ "Wasn't it one of the young Lizards who would prove to his

mother, when she had just scalded her fingers with boiling water out

of the tea-kittle, that there's no more heat in fire that heats you,

than pain in the stick that beats you!"

_Mr. ----._ "Yes; I think that character has done harm; it has thrown

a ridicule upon metaphysical disquisitions."

_Mrs.----._ "Are not those lines about the pain in the stick in the

'Letter[116] to my Sisters at Crux Easton,' in Dodsley's poems?"

_Mr. ----._ "Yes; but they come originally from Hudibras, you know."

In slight conversations, such as these, which are not contrived for

the purpose, the curiosity of children is awakened to literature; they

see the use which people make of what they read, and they learn to

talk freely about what they meet with in books. What a variety of

thoughts came in a few instants from S----'s question about _Idem_!

(November 8th, 1795.) Mr. ---- read the first chapter of Hugh Trevor

to us; which contains the history of a passionate farmer, who was in a

rage with a goose because it would not eat some oats which he offered

it. He tore off the wings of the animal, and twisted off its neck; he

bit off the ear of a pig, because it squealed when he was ringing it;

he ran at his apprentice Hugh Trevor with a pitch-fork, because he

suspected that he had drank some milk; the pitch-fork stuck in a door.

Hugh Trevor then told the passionate farmer, that the dog Jowler had

drank the milk, but that he would not tell this before, because he

knew his master would have hanged the dog.

_S----_ admired Hugh Trevor for this extremely.

The farmer in his lucid intervals is extremely penitent, but his fit

of rage seizes him again one morning when he sees some milk boiling

over. He flies at Hugh Trevor, and stabs him with a clasp knife, with

which he had been cutting bread and cheese; the knife is stopped by

half a crown which Hugh Trevor had sewed in his waistcoat; _this half

crown he had found on the highway a few days before_.

It was doubted by Miss M. S----, whether this last was a proper

circumstance to be told to children, because it might lead them to be

dishonest.

The evening after Mr. ---- had read the story, he asked S---- to

repeat it to him. S---- remembered it, and told it distinctly till he

came to the half crown; at this circumstance he hesitated. He said he

did not know how Hugh Trevor "_came to keep it_," though he had found

it. He wondered that Hugh Trevor did not ask about it.

_Mr. ----_ explained to him, that when a person finds any thing upon

the highway, he should put it in the hand of the public crier, who

should _cry it_. Mr. ---- was not quite certain whether the property

found on the high road, after it has been _cried_ and no owner

appears, belongs to the king, or to the person who finds it.

Blackstone's Commentaries were consulted; the passage concerning

_Treasuretrove_ was read to S----; it is written in such distinct

language, that he understood it completely.

Young people may acquire much knowledge by consulting books, at the

moment that any interest is excited by conversation upon particular

subjects.

Explanations about the _law_ were detailed to S----, because he was

intended for a lawyer. In conversation we may direct the attention of

children to what are to be their professional studies, and we may

associate entertainment and pleasure with the idea of their future

profession.

The story of the passionate farmer in Hugh Trevor was thought to be a

good lesson for children of vivacious tempers, as it shows to what

crimes excess of passion may transport. This man appears an object of

compassion; all the children felt a mixture of pity and abhorrence

when they heard the history of his disease.

(November 23d, 1795.) This morning at breakfast Miss ---- observed,

that the inside of the cream cover, which was made of black Wedgwood's

ware, looked brown and speckled, as if the glazing had been worn away;

she asked whether this was caused by the cream. One of the company

immediately exclaimed, "Oh! I've heard that Wedgwood's ware won't hold

oil." Mr. ---- observed, that it would be best to try the experiment,

instead of resting content with this hearsay evidence; he asked H----

and S---- what would be the best method of trying the experiment

exactly.

_S----_ proposed to pour oil into a vessel of Wedgwood's ware, and to

measure the depth of the oil when first put in; to leave the oil in

the vessel for some time, and then to measure again the depth of the

oil.

_H----_ said, "I would weigh the Wedgwood's ware vessel; then pour oil

into it, and weigh _it_ (them) again; then I would leave the oil in

the vessel for some time, and afterwards I would pour out the oil, and

would weigh the vessel to see if it had gained any weight; and then

weigh the oil to find out whether it had lost any weight since it was

put into the vessel." H----'s scheme was approved.

A black Wedgwood's ware salt-cellar was weighed in accurate scales; it

weighed 1196 grains; 110 grains of oil were poured into it; total

weight of the salt-cellar and oil, 1306 grs. Six months afterwards,

the salt-cellar was produced to the children, who were astonished to

see that the oil had disappeared. The lady, who had first asserted

that Wedgwood's ware would not hold oil, was inclined to believe that

the oil had oozed through the pores of the salt-cellar; but the little

spectators thought it was more probable that the oil might have been

accidentally spilled; the salt-cellar weighed as before 1196 grains.

The experiment was repeated, and this time it was resolved to lock up

the salt-cellar, that it might not again be thrown down.

(April 14th, 1796.) Into the same salt-cellar 100 grains weight of

oil was poured (total weight 1296 grains.) The salt-cellar was put on

a saucer, and covered with a glass tumbler. (June 3d, 1796.) Mr. ----

weighed the salt-cellar, and found that with the oil it weighed

precisely the same as before, 1296 grains; without the oil, 1196

grains, its original weight: therefore it was clear that the

Wedgwood's ware had neither imbibed the oil, nor let it pass through

its pores.

This little experiment has not been thus minutely told for

philosophers, but for children; however trivial the subject, it is

useful to teach children early to try experiments. Even the weighing

and calculating in this experiment, amused them, and gave some ideas

of the exactness necessary to prove any fact.

(Dec. 1st, 1795.) _S----_ (8 years old) in reading Gay's fable of "the

painter who pleased every body and nobody," was delighted to hear that

the painter put his pallet upon his thumb, because _S----_ had seen a

little pallet of his sister _A----'s_, which she used to put on her

thumb. _S----_ had been much amused by this, and he was very fond of

this sister, who had been absent for some time. Association makes

slight circumstances agreeable to children; if we do not know these

associations, we are surprised at their expressions of delight. It is

useful to trace them. (Vide Chap. on Imagination.)

_S----_ seemed puzzled when he read that the painter "dipped his

pencil, talked of _Greece_." "Why did he talk of Greece?" said _S----_

with a look of astonishment. Upon inquiry, it was found that _S----_

mistook the word _Greece_ for _Grease_!

It was explained to him, that Grecian statues and Grecian figures are

generally thought to be particularly graceful and well executed; that,

therefore, painters attend to them.

(Dec. 1st, 1795.) After dinner to-day, _S----_ was looking at a little

black toothpick-case of his father's; his father asked him if he knew

what it was made of.

The children guessed different things; wood, horn, bone, paper,

pasteboard, glue.

Mr. ----. "Instead of examining the toothpick-case, _S----_, you hold

it in your hand, and turn your eyes away from it, that you may think

the better. Now, when I want to find out any thing about a particular

object, I keep my eye fixed upon it. Observe the texture of that

toothpick-case, if you want to know the materials of which it is made;

look at the edges, feel it."

_S----._ "May I smell it?"

_Mr. ----._ "Oh yes. You may use all your senses."

_S----_ (feeling the toothpick-case, smelling it, and looking closely

at it.) "It is black, and smooth, and strong and light. What is, let

me see, both strong and light, and it will bend--parchment."

_Mr. ----._ "That is a good guess; but you are not quite right yet.

What is parchment? I think by your look that you don't know."

_S----._ "Is it not paper pasted together?"

_Mr. ----._ "No; I thought you mistook pasteboard for parchment."

_S----._ "Is parchment skin?"

_Mr. ----._ "Of what?"

_S----._ "Animals."

_Mr. ----._ "What animal?"

_S----._ "I don't know."

_Mr. ----._ "Parchment is the skin of sheep."

"But _S----_, don't keep the toothpick-case in your hand, push it

round the table to your neighbours, that every body may look again

before they guess. I think, for certain reasons of my own, that

_H----_ will guess right."

_H----._ "Oh I know what it is now!"

_H----_ had lately made a pump, the piston of which was made of

leather; the leather had been wetted, and then forced through a mould

of the proper size. _H----_ recollected this, as _Mr. ----_ thought he

would, and guessed that the case might have been made of leather, and

by a similar process.

_S----._ "Is it made of the skin of some animal?"

_Mr. ----._ "Yes; but what do you mean by the skin of some animal?

What do you call it?"

_S----_ (laughing.) "Oh, leather! leather!"

_H----._ "Yes, it's made the same way that the piston of my pump is

made, I suppose."

_M----._ "Could not shoes be made in the same manner in a mould?"

_Mr. ----._ "Yes; but there would be one disadvantage; the shoes would

lose their shape as soon as they were wet; and the sole and upper

leather must be nearly of the same thickness."

_S----._ "Is the tookpick-case made out of any particular kind of

leather? I wish I could make one!"

_M----._ "You have a bit of green leather, will you give it to me?

I'll punch it out like _H_'s piston; but I don't exactly know how the

toothpick-case was made into the right shape."

_Mr. ----._ "It was made in the same manner in which silver

pencil-cases and thimbles are made. If you take a thin piece of

silver, or of any ductile material, and lay it over a concave mould,

you can readily imagine that you can make the thin, ductile material

take the shape of any mould into which you put it; and you may go on

forcing it into moulds of different depths, till at last the plate of

silver will have been shaped into a cylindrical form; a thimble, a

pencil-case, a toothpick-case, or any similar figure."

We have observed (V. Mechanics) that children should have some general

idea of mechanics before they go into the large manufactories; this

can be given to them from time to time in conversation, when little

circumstances occur, which _naturally_ lead to the subject.

(November 30th, 1795.) _S----_ said he liked the beginning of Gay's

fable of "The man and the flea," very much, but he could not tell what

was meant by the crab's crawling beside the _coral grove_, and hearing

the ocean roll _above_. "The ocean cannot roll _above_, can it

mother?"

_Mother._ "Yes, when the animal is crawling below he hears the water

rolling above him."

_M----._ "Coral groves mean the branches of coral which look like

trees; you saw some at Bristol in Mr. B----'s collection."

The difficulty _S----_ found in understanding "coral groves," confirms

what has been observed, that children should never read poetry without

its being thoroughly explained to them. (Vide Chapter on Books.)

(January 10th, 1795.) _S----_ (8 years old) said that he had been

thinking about the wind; and he believed that it was the earth's

turning round that made the wind.

_M----._ "Then how comes it that the wind does not blow always the

same way?"

_S----._ "Aye, that's the thing I can't make out; besides, perhaps the

air would stick to the earth as it turns round, as threads stick to my

spinning top, and go round with it."

(January 4th, 1795.) As we were talking of the king of Poland's little

dwarf, S---- recollected by contrast the Irish giant whom he had seen

at Bristol. "I liked the Irish giant very much, because," said S----,

"though he was so large, he was not surly; and when my father asked

him to take out his shoe-buckle to try whether it would cover my foot,

he did not seem in a hurry to do it. I suppose he did not wish to show

how little I was."

Children are nice observers of that kind of politeness which arises

from good nature; they may hence learn what really pleases in manners,

without being taught grimace.

Dwarfs and giants led us to Gulliver's Travels. S---- had never read

them, but one of the company now gave him some general account of

Lilliput and Brobdignag. He thought the account of the little people

more entertaining than that of the large ones; the carriage of

Gulliver's hat by a team of Lilliputian horses, diverted him; but,

when he was told that the queen of Brobdignag's dwarf stuck Gulliver

one day at dinner into a marrow bone, S---- looked grave, and seemed

rather shocked than amused; he said, "It must have almost suffocated

poor Gulliver, and must have spoiled his clothes." S---- wondered of

what cloth they could make him new clothes, because the cloth in

Brobdignag must have been too thick, and as thick as a board. He also

wished to know what sort of glass was used to glaze the windows in

Gulliver's wooden house; "because," said he, "their common glass must

have been so thick that it would not have been transparent to

Gulliver." He thought that Gulliver must have been extremely afraid of

setting his small wooden house on fire.

_M----._ "Why more afraid than we are? His house was as large for

Gulliver as our house is for us."

_S----._ "Yes, but what makes the fire must have been _so much_

larger! One cinder, one spark of theirs would have filled his little

grate. And how did he do to read their books?"

_S----_ was told that Gulliver stood at the topmost line of the page,

and ran along as fast as he read, till he got to the bottom of the

page. It was suggested, that Gulliver might have used a diminishing

glass. S----immediately exclaimed, "How entertaining it must have been

to him to look through their telescopes." An instance of invention

arising from _contrast_.

If the conversation had not here been interrupted, S---- would

probably have invented a greater variety of pleasures and difficulties

for Gulliver; his eagerness to read Gulliver's Travels, was increased

by this conversation. We should let children exercise their invention

upon all subjects, and not tell them the whole of every thing, and all

the ingenious parts of a story. Sometimes they invent these, and are

then interested to see how the _real_ author has managed them. Thus

children's love for literature may be increased, and the activity of

their minds may be exercised. "Le secret d'ennuyer," says an

author[117] who never tires us, "Le secret d'ennuyer est celui de

tout dire." This may be applied to the art of education. (V.

Attention, Memory, and Invention.)

(January 17th, 1796.) S----. "I don't understand about the tides."

_H----_ (13 years old.) "The moon, when it comes near the earth, draws

up the sea by the middle; attracts it, and as the middle rises, the

water runs down from that again into the channels of rivers."

_S----._ "But--Hum!--the moon attracts the sea; but why does not the

sun attract it by the middle as well as the moon? How can you be sure

that it is the moon that does it?"

_Mr. ----._ "We are not sure that the moon is the cause of tides."

We should never force any system upon the belief of children; but wait

till they can understand all the arguments on each side of the

question.

(January 18th, 1796.) S---- (9 years old.) "Father, I have thought of

a reason for the wind's blowing.

When there has been a hot sunshiny day, and when the ground has been

wet, the sun attracts a great deal of vapour: then _that_ vapour must

have room, so it must push away some air to make room for itself;

besides, vapour swells with heat, so it must have a _great_, _great_

deal of room as it grows hotter, and hotter; and the moving the air to

make way for it, must make wind."

It is probable, that if children are not early taught by rote words

which they cannot understand, they will _think_ for themselves; and,

however strange their incipient theories may appear, there is hope for

the improvement of children as long as their minds are active.

(February 13th, 1796.) S----. "How do physicians try new medicines? If

they are not sure they will succeed, they may be hanged for murder,

mayn't they? It is cruel to try _them_ (_them_ meant medicines) on

animals; besides, all animals are not the same as men. A pig's inside

is the most like that of a man. I remember my father showed us the

inside of a pig once."

Some time afterwards, S---- inquired what was meant by the circulation

of the blood. "How are we sure that it does move? You told me that it

doesn't move after we die, then nobody can have seen it really moving

in the veins; that beating that I feel in my pulse does not feel like

any thing running backwards and forwards; it beats up and down."

The lady to whom S---- addressed these questions and observations,

unfortunately could not give him any information upon this subject,

but she had at least the prudence, or honesty, to tell the boy that

"she did not know any thing about the matter."

S---- should have been shown the circulation of the blood in fishes:

which he might have seen by a microscope.

Children's minds turn to such inquiries; surely, if they are intended

for physicians, these are the moments to give them a taste for their

future profession, by associating pleasure with instruction, and

connecting with the eagerness of curiosity the hope of making

discoveries; a hope which all vivacious young people strongly feel.

(February 16th.) S---- objected to that fable of Phaedrus in which it

is said, that a boy threw a stone at AEsop, and that AEsop told the boy

to throw a stone at another passenger, pointing to a rich man. The boy

did as AEsop desired, and the rich man had the boy hanged.

S---- said, that he thought that AEsop should have been hanged, because

AEsop was the cause of the boy's fault.

How little suited _political_ fables are to children. This fable,

which was meant to show, we suppose, that the _rich_ could not, like

the poor, be insulted with impunity, was quite unintelligible to a boy

(nine years old) of _simple_ understanding.

(July 19th, 1796.) Amongst "_Vulgar errours_," Sir Thomas Browne

might have mentioned the common notion, that if you take a hen and

hold her head down to the ground, and draw a circle of chalk round

her, she will be enchanted by this magical operation so that she

cannot stir. We determined to try the experiment, for which Dr.

Johnson would have laughed at us, as he laughed at Browne[118] for

trying "_the hopeless experiment_" about the magnetic dials.

A hen's head was held down upon a stone flag, and a chalk line was

drawn before her; she did not move. The same hen was put into a circle

of chalk that had been previously drawn for her reception; her head

was held down according to the letter of the charm, and she did not

move; line or circle apparently operated alike. It was suggested (by

A----) that perhaps the hen was frightened by her head's being held

down to the ground, and that the chalk line and circle had nothing to

do with the business. The hen was carried out of sight of the magic

line and circle, her head was held down to the ground as before; and

when the person who had held her, gently withdrew his hand, she did

not move. She did not for some instants recover from her terror; or,

perhaps, the feeling of pressure seemed to her to remain upon her head

after the hand was withdrawn.

Children who are accustomed to _doubt_, and to try experiments, will

not be dupes to "Vulgar errours."

(July 20th, 1796.) S---- (between 9 and 10) when he heard a lady

propose to make use of a small glass tumbler to hold pomatum, made a

face expressive of great disgust; he was begged to give a reason for

his dislike. S---- said it appeared to him dirty and disagreeable to

put pomatum into a tumbler out of which we are used to drink wine or

water.

We have observed, (V. Chapter on Taste and Imagination) that children

may early be led to reflect upon the cause of their tastes.

(July 24th, 1796.) S---- observed, that "the lachrymal sack is like

Aboulcasem's cup, (in the Persian tales.) It is emptied and fills

again of itself; though it is emptied ever so often, it continues

full."

The power of reasoning had been more cultivated in S---- than the

taste for wit or allusion; yet it seems his mind was not defective in

that quickness of seizing resemblances which _may_ lead to wit. He was

not praised for the lachrymal sack, and Aboulcasem's cup. (V. Chapter

on Wit and Judgment.)

(August 3d, 1796.) C---- (11 years old) after she had heard a

description of a fire engine, said, "I want to read the description of

the fire engine over again, for whilst my father was describing one

particular part, I recollected something that I had heard before, and

_that_ took my attention quite away from what he was saying. Very

often when I am listening, something that is said puts me in mind of

something, and then I go on thinking of _that_, and I cannot hear what

is said any longer."

Preceptors should listen to the observations that their pupils make

upon their minds; this remark of C----suggested to us some ideas that

have been detailed in the "Chapter on Attention."

(August 1st, 1796.) S----, who had been translating some of Ovid's

Metamorphoses to his father, exclaimed, "I hate those ancient gods and

goddesses, they are so wicked! I wish I was Perseus, and had his

shield, I would fly up to heaven and turn Jupiter, and Apollo, and

Venus into stone; then they would be too heavy to stay in heaven, and

they would tumble down to earth; and then they would be stone statues,

and we should have much finer statues of Apollo and Venus than any

they have now at Rome."

(September 10th, 1796.) S---- (within a month of ten years old) read

to his sister M---- part of Dr. Darwin's chapter upon instinct; that

part in which there is an account of young birds who learn to sing

from the birds who take care of them, not from their parents. S----

immediately recollected a story which he had read last winter in the

Annual Register. Extract from Barrington's Remarks upon singing

Birds. "There was a silly boy once (you know, sister, boys are silly

sometimes) who used to play in a room where his mother had a

nightingale in a cage, and the boy took out of the cage the

nightingale's eggs, and put in some other bird's eggs (a swallow's, I

think) and the nightingale hatched them, and when the swallows grew up

they sang like nightingales." When S---- had done reading, he looked

at the title of the book. He had often heard his father speak of

Zoonomia, and he knew that Dr. Darwin was the author of it.

_S----._ "Oh, ho! Zoonomia! Dr. Darwin wrote it; it is very

entertaining: my father told me that when I read Zoonomia, I should

know the reason why I stretch myself when I am tired. But, sister,

there is one thing I read about the cuckoo that I did not quite

understand. May I look at it again?" He read the following passage.

"For a hen teaches this language with ease to the ducklings she has

hatched from supposititious eggs, and educates as her own offspring;

and the wag-tails or hedge-sparrows learn it from the young cuckoo,

their foster nursling, and supply him with food long after he can fly

about, whenever they hear his cuckooing, which Linnaeus tells us is his

call of hunger."

_S----_ asked what Dr. Darwin meant by "learns _it_."

_M----._ "Learns a language."

_S----._ "What does foster nursling mean?"

_M----._ "It here means a bird that is nursed along with another, but

that has not the same parents."

_S----._ "Then, does it not mean that the sparrows learn from their

foster sister, the cuckoo, to say Cuckoo!"

_M----._ "No; the sparrow don't learn to say cuckoo, but they learn to

understand what he means by that cry; that he is hungry."

_S----._ "Well, but then I think this is a proof against what Dr.

Darwin means about instinct."

_M----._ "Why? How?"

_S----._ "Because the young cuckoo does say cuckoo! without being

taught, it does not learn from the sparrows. How comes it to say

cuckoo at all, if it is not by instinct? It does not see its own

father and mother."

We give this conversation as a proof that our young pupils were

accustomed to _think_ about every thing that they read.

(Nov. 8th, 1796.) The following are the "_Curiosities of Literature_,"

which were promised to the reader in the chapter upon Grammar and

Classical Literature.

Translation from Ovid. The Cave of Sleep, _first_ edition.

"No watchful cock Aurora's beams invite;

No dog nor goose, the guardians of the night."

_Dog_ and _goose_ were objected to, and the young author changed them

into dogs and geese.

"No herds nor flocks, nor human voice is heard;

But nigh the cave a _rustling_ spring appear'd."

When this line was read to S----, he changed the epithet _rustling_

into _gliding_.

"And with soft murmurs faithless sleep invites,

And there the flying past again delights;

And near the door the noxious poppy grows,

And spreads his sleepy milk at daylight's close."

S---- was now requested to translate the beginning of the sentence,

and he produced these lines:

"Far from the sun there lies a cave forlorn,

Which Sol's bright beams _can't_ enter eve nor morn."

_Can't_ was objected to. Mr. ---- asked S---- what was the literal

English. S---- first said _not_, and then _nor_; and he corrected his

line, and made it

"Which Sol's bright beams _nor_ visit eve nor morn."

Afterwards:

"Far in a vale there lies a cave forlorn,

Which Phoebus never enters eve nor morn."

After an interval of a few days, the lines were all read to the boy,

to try whether he could farther correct them; he desired to have the

two following lines left out:

"No herds, nor flocks, nor human voice is heard,

But nigh the cave a gliding spring appeared."

And in the place of them he wrote,

"No flocks nor herds disturb the silent plains:

Within the sacred walls mute quiet reigns."

Instead of the two following:

"And with soft murmurs faithless sleep invites,

And there the flying past again delights."

S---- desired his _secretary_ to write,

"But murmuring Lethe soothing sleep invites,

In dreams again the flying past delights."

Instead of

"And near the doors the noxious poppy grows,

And spreads his sleepy milk at daylight's close,"

the following lines were written. S---- did not say _doors_, because

he thought the cave had no doors; yet his Latin, he said, spoke of

squeaking hinges.

"From milky flowers that near the cavern grow,

Night scatters the collected sleep below."

We shall not make any further apology for inserting all these

corrections, because we have already sufficiently explained our

motives. (V. Chapter on Grammar and Classical Literature.)

(February, 1797.) A little theatre was put up for the children, and

they acted "Justice Poz."[119] When the scenes were pulled down

afterwards, S---- was extremely sorry to see the whole theatre vanish;

he had succeeded as an actor, and he wished to have another play

acted. His father did not wish that he should become ambitious of

excelling in this way at ten years old, because it might have turned

his attention away from things of more consequence; and, if he had

been much applauded for this talent, he would, perhaps, have been

over-stimulated. (V. Chapter on Vanity and Ambition.)

The way to turn this boy's mind away from its present pursuit, was to

give him another object, not to blame or check him for the natural

expression of his wishes. It is difficult to find objects for children

who have not cultivated a taste for literature; but infinite variety

can be found for those who have acquired this happy taste.

Soon after S---- had expressed his ardent wish to have another play

performed, the trial of some poor man in the neighbourhood happened to

be mentioned; and it was said, that the criminal had the choice of

either going to Botany Bay, or being hanged.

S---- asked how that could be. "I did'nt think," said he, "that a man

could have two punishments. Can the judge change the punishment? I

thought it was fixed by the law."

Mr. ---- told S---- that these were sensible questions; and, as he saw

that the boy's attention was fixed, he seized the opportunity to give

him some general idea upon the subject. He began with telling S----the

manner in which a suspected person is brought before a justice of the

peace. A warrant and committal were described; then the manner of

trying criminals; what is called the court, the jury, &c. the crier of

the court, and the forms of a trial; the reason why the prisoner, when

he is asked how he will be tried, answers, "By God and my country:"

this led to an account of the old absurd fire and water ordeals, and

thence the advantages of a trial by jury became more apparent by

comparison. Mr. ---- told S---- why it is called _empannelling_ a

jury, and why the jury are called a _pannel_; the manner in which the

jury give their verdict; the duty of the judge, to sum up the

evidence, to explain the law to the jury. "The judge is, by the

humane laws of England, always supposed to be the protector of the

accused; and now, S----, we are come round to your question; the judge

cannot make the punishment more severe; but when the punishment is

fine or imprisonment, the quantity or duration of the punishment is

left to his judgment. The king may remit the punishment entirely; he

may pardon the criminal; he may, if a man be sentenced to be hanged,

give him his choice, whether he will be hanged or _transported_"--(the

word was explained.)

"But," said S----, "since the judge cannot _change_ the punishment,

why may the king? I think it is very unjust that the king should have

such a power, because, if he changes the punishment for one thing, why

mayn't he for another and another, and so on?"

Mr. ----. "I am inclined to believe, my dear S----, that it is for the

good of a state, that a king should have such a power; but I am not

sure. If any individual should have this power, I think it is most

safely trusted to a king; because, as he has no connection with the

individuals who are tried, as he does not live amongst them, he is not

so liable as judges and jurymen might be to be prejudiced, to be

influenced by personal revenge, friendship, or pity. When he pardons,

he is supposed to pardon without any personal motives. But of all

this, S----, you will judge for yourself, when you study the law. I

intend to take you with me to ---- next assizes to hear a trial."

S---- looked full as eager to hear a trial, as he had done, half an

hour before, to act a play. We should mention, that in the little play

in which he had acted, he had played the part of a justice of the

peace, and a sort of trial formed the business of the play; the ideas

of trials and law, therefore, joined readily with his former train of

thought. Much of the success of education, depends upon the

preceptor's seizing these slight connections. It is scarcely possible

to explain this fully in writing.

(February 25th, 1797.) S---- was reading in "Evenings at Home," the

story of "A friend in need, is a friend indeed."

"Mr. G. Cornish, having raised a moderate fortune, and being now

beyond the meridian of life, he felt a _strong desire_ of returning to

his native country."

S----. "How much better that is, than to say he felt an _irresistible

desire_, or an _insupportable desire_, as people sometimes say in

books."

Our pupils were always permitted to stop when they were reading loud,

to make whatever remarks they pleased upon whatever books they read.

They did not, by this method, get through so many books as other

children of their age usually do; but their taste for reading seemed

to increase rapidly. (V. Books.)

(March 8th, 1797.) H---- (14) told us that he remembered seeing, when

he was five years old, some puppets packed up by a showman in a

triangular box; "and for sometime afterwards," said H----, "when I saw

my father's triangular hat-box, I expected puppets to come out of it.

A few days ago, I met a man with a triangular box upon his head, and I

thought that there were puppets in the box."

We have taken notice of this propensity in children, to believe that

particular, are general causes; and we have endeavoured to show how it

affects the temper, and the habits of reasoning. (V. Temper, and Wit

and Judgment.)

(March 27th, 1797.) Mr. ---- showed little W----(3 years old) a watch,

and asked him if he thought that it was alive.

_W----._ "Yes."

_Mr. ----._ "Do you think that the fire is alive?"

_W----._ "Yes."

_Mr. ----._ (The child was standing at the tea table.) "Do you think

the urn is alive?"

_W----._ "No."

_Mr. ----._ "Do you think that book is alive?"

_W----._ "No."

_Mr. ----._ "The horses?"

_W----._ "Yes."

_Mr. ----._ "Do you think that the chaise is alive?"

_W----._ "Yes." Then, after looking in Mr. ----'s face, he changed his

opinion, and said _no_.

_W----_ did not seem to know what was meant by the word _alive_.

Mr. ---- called H. (5 years old) and asked her whether she thought

that the watch was alive. She at first said Yes; but, as soon as she

had time to recollect herself, she said that the watch was not alive.

This question was asked, to try whether Reid was right in his

conjecture as to the answers a child would give to such a question.

(V. Reid's Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man.)

We frequently say, that flowers, &c. are dead: we should explain to

children that there are two kinds of life; or rather, that the word

_life_ is used to express two ideas; vegetable life, and animal life.

(July, 1797.) Miss Louisa ---- told us, that when a rose bud begins to

wither, if you burn the end of the stalk, and plunge it red hot into

water, the rose will be found revived the next day; and by a

repetition of this burning, the lives of flowers may be fortunately

prolonged many days. Miss Louisa ---- had seen many surprising

recoveries performed by this operation, and several of her friends had

adopted the practice with uniform success.

We determined to repeat the experiment. Children should never take any

thing upon trust which they can verify. Two roses, gathered at the

same time, from the same tree, were put into separate glasses of

water. The stalk of one of these roses was burnt, according to

prescription; they were left a night in water, and the next day the

rose that had been burnt, appeared in much better health than that

which had not been burnt. The experiment was afterwards several times

repeated; and should be tried by others until the fact be fully

ascertained.

(July, 1797.) Little W---- (three years old) was shown Miss B----'s

beautiful copy of the Aurora surgens of Guido. The car of Apollo is

encircled by the dancing hours, so that its shape is not seen; part of

one wheel only is visible between the robes of the dancing figures. We

asked little W---- why that man (pointing to the figure of Apollo in

his invisible car) looked so much higher up in the air than the other

people?

_W----._ "Because he is in a carriage; he is sitting in a carriage."

We pointed to the imperfect wheel, and asked if he knew what that was?

He immediately answered, "Yes, the wheel of the carriage." We wanted

to see whether the imagination of a child of three years old, would

supply the invisible parts of the _car_: and whether the wheel and

horses, and man holding the reins, would suggest the idea of a phaeton.

(V. Chapter on Taste and Imagination.)

We shall not trespass upon the reader's patience with any more

anecdotes from the nursery. We hope, that candid and intelligent

parents will pardon, if they have discovered any desire in us to

_exhibit_ our pupils. We may mistake our own motives, and we do not

pretend to be perfectly impartial judges upon this occasion; but we

have hoped, that only such conversations or anecdotes have been

produced, as may be of some use in Practical Education. From

conversation, if properly managed, children may learn with ease,

expedition, and delight, a variety of knowledge; and a skilful

preceptor can apply in conversation all the principles that we have

laboriously endeavoured to make intelligible.

FOOTNOTES:

[113] Mrs. Honora Edgeworth, daughter of Edward Sneyd, Esq. of

Litchfield. As this lady's name has been mentioned in a monody on the

death of Major Andre, we take this opportunity of correcting a mistake

that occurs in a note to that performance.

"Till busy rumour chas'd each pleasing dream, And quench'd the

radiance of the silver beam."

_Monody on Major Andre._

The note on these lines is as follows:

"The tidings of Honora's marriage. Upon that event Mr. Andre quitted

his profession as a merchant, and joined our army in America."

Miss Honora Sneyd was married to Mr. Edgeworth in July, 1773, and the

date of Major Andre's first commission in the Welch Fusileers is March

4th, 1771.

[114] This has been formerly quoted in the preface to the Parent's

Assistant.

[115] The anecdotes mentioned in the _preceding_ pages, were read to

the children with the rest of the work.

[116] Soame Jennings's.

[117] Voltaire.

[118] V. Johnson's Life of Browne.

[119] Parent's Assistant.

THE END.