Everything, in the morning, naturally invites to early rising. The pleasant light, the music, at certain seasons, of some of the animated tribes, and the joy which we feel in activity, and in the society of those whom we love, all conspire to rouse us. If we have retired late, however, and especially in a feverish condition, so that when we wake we feel wretched, and, as sometimes happens, more fatigued than when we lay down, other collateral motives may be needed.

I have said that everything invites us, in the morning, to rise early; but it was upon the presumption that our parents, and brothers, and sisters set us a good example. If parents and other friends lie in bed late themselves, can anything else be, expected of children? Admitting, even, that they rise early themselves, if they never speak of early rising as a pleasure, and connect along with it, in their children's minds, pleasant associations, they would be unreasonable to expect otherwise than that their children should cling to the morning couch, till they are fairly compelled to rise as a relief from pain and uneasiness.

But when parents go farther than this, and actually discourage their children from rising early, and use every means in their power short of actual punishment—and sometimes even that—to make them lie still till breakfast, in order that they may be out of the way, what shall we say? And what is to be expected as the result?

There is hope, however, under the last circumstances. People sometimes carry things to an extreme that defeats their very purposes. Thus it occasionally is, in the case before us. This forbidding children to rise early, and threatening them if they do, sometimes excites their curiosity, and leads them to the forbidden course of conduct, simply because it is forbidden. Not a few persons among us possess the disposition to be governed by what has sometimes been called the "rule of contrary."

I might stop here to show that there is nothing so well calculated to develope and improve the mind and heart, even of parents themselves, as the society of those whom God gives them to train for Him and their country. I might show that not a few of those traits of character which render the company of many old persons rather irksome, especially to the young, have their origin in their neglect of the young, and of keeping up, as long as circumstances will possibly admit, juvenile feelings, actions, and habits.

And yet what do we too often witness in life? Is not every effort made to induce the young to lie in bed late that they may be out of the way? Are they not placed, as soon as possible after they are up, with the servants—if unfortunately there are any in the family—that they may be out of the way? Are they not required to breakfast, and dine, and sup elsewhere, if possible, that they may be out of the way? Do we not send them to school, even the Sabbath school, to get them out of the way? Do not some mothers even dose their infants with stupifying medicines to lull them to sleep, in order to have them out of the way? And to crown all, though they are quite too often permitted to sit up late in the evening, to enjoy that society which they are denied so great a part of the day-time, are they not occasionally put to bed early that they may be out of the way, and that the parents may attend late parties, to indulge in immoral or unhealthy habits?

In the last instance, they are indeed sometimes put out of the way, in the result—and with a vengeance. Many a child, nay, many thousands of children, are burnt up yearly, while their parents are gone abroad in the evening in quest of that enjoyment which ought to be found in the bosom of their families. "In Westminster, a part of London, containing less than two hundred thousand inhabitants, one hundred children were thus destroyed, during a single year." And the moral results which occasionally happen are a thousand times worse than burning. But enough of this.

The common practice of lecturing the young on the importance of early rising, may have a good effect on a few; but in general, it is believed to produce the contrary result. It is, in short, to sum up the whole matter, the influence of parental example, and the speaking often of the happiness which early rising affords, with perhaps the occasional indulgence of the child in a pleasant morning walk, which, if he retires early enough, are almost certain to produce in him the valuable habit of early rising.

But what is an early hour? Some call it early, when the sun is one hour high; some at sunrise; others, when they hear of an early riser, suppose he must be one who rises at least by daybreak.

Midnight is, of course, as near the middle of the night as any hour; and he who goes to bed four or five hours before midnight, will never complain of those who insist that he is not an early riser who is not up by four or five o'clock. In summer, no adult ought to lie in bed after four o'clock, and no child, except the mere infant, after five.

Much is said by a few writers, especially Macnish, of the danger of rising before the sun has attained a sufficient height above the horizon to chase away the vapors, and remove the dampness. But I must insist upon earlier rising than this, though we should not choose to venture abroad. Invigorated and restored as we are by sleep, I cannot think that the dampness of the morning air is more injurious than the foul air of some of our sleeping rooms.



CHAPTER XVI.

HARDENING THE CONSTITUTION.

Mistakes about hardening children. Their clothing. Much cold enfeebles. The Scotch Highlanders. The two extremes equally fatal—over-tenderness and neglect. An interesting anecdote from Dr. Dewees.

While I have been very particular in enjoining on my readers the importance of thoroughly ventilating their dwellings, I have also insisted upon the necessity of taking children abroad, as much as possible. Not, however, to harden them, so much as to give them a more free access to air and light than they can have at home; and also—when they are old enough—to cultivate the faculties of attention, comparison, &c.

The practice of attempting to harden children by frequent exposure to air much colder than that to which they have been accustomed, without sufficient additional clothing, is open to the same objections which have been brought against cold bathing. Under the management of a judicious medical practitioner, it may do great good to a few constitutions; but its indiscriminate use would injure a thousand infants for one who was benefited.

True it is that if the child is protected against cold, no harm, but on the contrary much good may result, from carrying him abroad into the fresh air, even in very cold weather. But what can be more painful than to see the little sufferers carried along when their limbs are purple, or benumbed with cold? And how idle it is to hope that such exposure hardens or improves the constitution!

It is on the same mistaken principle that many adults go thinly clad, late in the fall. I have seen men in November and December beating and rubbing their hands, who, on being asked why they did not wear mittens, replied, that if they should wear one pair of mittens so early in the season, they should want two in the winter.

Now I cheerfully admit that to put on additional clothing before the severity of the weather demands it, actually produces the effect here supposed; but to endure severe cold, on the contrary, never hardens anybody. Nay, more, it enfeebles. Cold, when combined with the evils of poverty, produces more mischief and destroys more lives than any one disease in the whole catalogue of human maladies.

Adam Smith says that it is not uncommon for mothers in the Highlands of Scotland, who have borne twenty children, to have only two of them alive.

It may be difficult to say whether children are oftener destroyed by over-tenderness than by neglect, and the evils incident to poverty. Both extremes are common; while the happy medium—that of conducting a child's education upon the principles of physiology, is rarely known, and still more rarely followed.

I have been much amused, and not a little instructed, by the following anecdote on this point, from Dr. Dewees:

We were speaking with a lady who had lost three or four children with "croup," who informed us she was convinced, from absolute experiment, that there was nothing like exposure to all kinds of weather to protect and harden the system. By her first plan of managing her children, which was by keeping them very warmly clad, she said she lost several by the croup; but since she had adopted the opposite scheme, her children had been perfectly healthy, and never had betrayed the slightest disposition to that terrible disease which had robbed her of her children.

Perhaps, madam, we observed, you did not, in making your first experiments, attend to a number of details which might be thought essential to the plan. You did not probably take the proper precautions when you sent them into the cold air, or observe what was important for them when they returned from it.

"Oh, yes," she replied, "I took every possible care when they, were going out. I always made them wear a very warm great coat, well lined with baize, and a fur cape or collar. I always made them wear a 'comfortable' round their necks, made of soft woollen yarn. And as for their feet, they were always protected by socks or over-shoes lined with wool or fur, as the weather might be wet or dry."

Do you believe, madam, they were kept at a proper degree of warmth by these means?

"Oh, certainly. Indeed, rather too warm; for they would often be in a state of perspiration, they told me, when in the open air; especially if they ran, slid, or skated."

And what was done when they were thus heated?

"Oh, they got cool enough before they reached home."

And would they receive no injury in passing from this state of perspiration to that of chill?

"Not at all; for when this happened, I always made them take a little warm brandy, or wine and water, and made them toast their feet well by the fire." [Footnote: This absurd custom is a fruitful source of that distressing condition of the hands and feet, in winter, called "chilblains."]

Did they sleep in a cold or warm room?

"In a warm room. A good fire was always made in the stove before they went to bed, which kept them quite warm all night."

Would they never complain of being cold towards morning, when the stove had become cold?

"Yes, certainly; but then there were always at hand additional bed-clothes, with which they could cover themselves."

And did they always do it?

"Oh, I suppose so."

Well, madam, how did you carry your second plan into execution, which you say was attended with such happy results?

"I began by not letting them put on their great coats, except when the weather was so cold as to require this additional covering, and did not permit them to wear a 'comfortable' or fur round their necks. I took away their over-shoes, and if their feet chanced to get wet, (for they were always provided with good sound shoes,) the shoes were immediately changed, if they were at home. If the weather was wet, or unusually cold, they were permitted to wear their great coats, but not without. If they came home very cold, they were not allowed to approach the fire too soon. I gave them no warm, heating drinks, and accustomed them to sleep in rooms without fire."

Who does not recognize, in this second plan for the enjoyment of air and exercise, as judicious a plan of physical education, so far as it goes, as can well be pointed out? We were so successful as to convince this lady, in a very short time, that our own plan of exposing the body was precisely the one she had pursued with so much success.

We also inquired of her what plan she pursued with her children, when too young to be submitted to the rules just mentioned. She informed us that it was the same system throughout, only the details varied as circumstances of age, &c. made it necessary. That is, she sent her children into the open air at very early periods of their lives, provided in summer it was neither too wet nor too warm; in winter, when the air was mild, dry and clear—but always carefully wrapped up, that their little extremities might not suffer from cold. She never suffered them to sleep in the open air, if it could be avoided; to prevent which, as much as possible, she constantly charged the nurse to bring the children home, as soon as she found them disposed to sleep, unless it was when they were very young, at which time it was impossible to guard against it.

And when her children were sufficiently old to walk, she took care to prepare them properly for it, whether it might be in warm, cold, or moderate weather. She never sent them abroad for pleasure at the risk of encountering a storm of any kind; nor permitted them to walk at the hazard of getting wet or very muddy feet.

Were the constitutions of your children pretty much the same? we demanded of this lady.

"No; one of my boys was extremely feeble, from his very birth."

Did you treat him precisely as you did the others?

"Yes, as far as regarded principles; that is, I permitted him to bear as much of cold, heat or wet as his constitution would endure without pain or injury. The degrees, however, were very different from those his brothers bore, had they been determined by the measurement of the thermometer, but precisely the same in effect, as far as could be ascertained by consequences. Thus, if he were exposed to the same temperature as his brothers, he experienced no more inconvenience from it, when it was very low, than they, because he had additional covering to protect him."



CHAPTER XVII.

SOCIETY.

Duty of mothers in this matter. Children prefer the society of parents. Importance of other society. Necessity of society illustrated. Early diffidence. Selecting companions for children. Moral effects of society on the young. Parents should play with their children.

Every mother is unquestionably as much bound to have an eye to the society of her child, as to his food, drink or clothing. And if the quality, amount and general character of the latter are important, those of the former are by no means less so.

It is indeed true that many a child has been happy, in a degree, in the society of its mother alone, where the father was seldom seen, and the brothers and sisters never. And it is equally true; that a few children have so far preferred the society of their parents alone, as to become disinclined to other society. But cases of this kind are only as exceptions to the general rule; and are probably monstrous formations of character. I cannot believe that any child, rightly educated, would prefer the society of none but its parents, or even its parents and brothers and sisters.

A French author has written a considerable volume on the importance of what he calls gaiety, but which he should prefer to call cheerfulness. Among the rest, he maintains that it is indispensable to the best health. But if so—and I do not doubt it—then it ought to be encouraged in children, and the earlier the better. Now there is no way to encourage cheerfulness in the young so effectually as by indulging them with considerable society.

That the thing may be carried to excess, I have no doubt. I have seen mothers who permitted their children to play with their mates till they became excited, and were thus led to continue their sports, not only farther than cheerfulness and health demanded, but until they were excessively fatigued, and almost made sick. And I believe that the excitement of numbers, in infant and other schools, may be so great as to be injurious, rather than salutary. Still I think these are rare cases.

Truth usually lies somewhere between extremes. To keep a child, especially a boy, always in the nursery, or even in the parlor with his mother, is one extreme; and to let him go abroad continually, till his home and its smaller circle become insipid, is the other. A child properly trained will usually prefer home, and only desire to go abroad occasionally. He will rather need urging in the matter than require restraint.

But he must, at any rate, be taught to be sociable, not only for the salve of cheerfulness and the consequent health, but for the sake of his manners, his mind, and his morals.

If it is a matter of indifference, in the formation of human character, whether we mix in society or not, then, for anything I can see, an improvement might be proposed in the construction of the material universe. Instead of forming the planets so large—and this earth among the rest—each might have been divided into hundreds of millions; and every human being might have had a little planet, and an immortality, exclusively his own. Such an arrangement would certainly prevent a great many evils; and, among the rest, a great deal of quarrelling and bloodshed.

But divine wisdom is higher than human wisdom, and one world to hundreds of millions of human beings has been made, instead of giving to each individual of the universe a little world of his own, in which he might have reigned sole monarch, and only wept, with Alexander, because none of the other worlds were within his grasp. Where a family is already large, other society will be unnecessary for some time; but where it consists of a mother only, although her society is always to be considered of the first importance, I cannot but think she ought to take great pains to introduce her child occasionally to the company of other children.

That diffidence, which almost destroys the influence and the happiness of many individuals, is often cherished, if not created, by too much seclusion. Where there is a natural constitution which predisposes the child to timidity and diffidence, the danger is greatly increased; and parents should take unwearied pains to guard against it.

It is hardly necessary for me to say, that great care should also be used in selecting the companions of children. Their character will be greatly influenced for life by their earlier associates. Friendships between children are sometimes formed, while playing together, which are interrupted only by death. Those parents who are so fond of controlling the choice of their sons and daughters in regard to a companion for life, at a period when control is generally resisted, would do well to take a hint from what has here been suggested. There is no doubt but they might often—very often—give such a direction to the embryo affections of their infants and children, as would terminate only with their existence.

It is still less necessary to advert, in a work like this, to the effect which much observation and experience shows good society to have on purity, both physical and moral. Every one must have observed its tendency to form habits of cleanliness, not to say neatness. There may be excess, even in this. Young persons, of both sexes, often spend too much time in preparing their dress for the reception or the visiting of their friends. Still this is only the abuse of a good thing. Nor is it less true, though it may be less obvious, that moral purity is more likely to be secured where children and youth of both sexes associate a great deal, from the earliest infancy. [Footnote: If this principle be correct, what is the tendency of our numerous schools, which are exclusively for one sex? Must there not be latent evil to counterbalance some of the seeming good? For myself, I doubt whether moral character can ever be formed in due proportion and harmony, where this separation long exists.] There are tremendous cases of declension on record, which establish this point beyond the possibility of debate.

To say that the mother—and indeed both parents—ought to form a part of the playing circle of the youngest children, in order to watch their opening dispositions, to check what may be improper, and encourage what ought to be encouraged, would be only to repeat what has often been recommended by the best writers on education—but which must be repeated, again and again, till it leaves an impression, especially on CHRISTIAN parents. It is strange that many regard this matter as they do, and appear not only ashamed to be seen sporting with their children, but almost ashamed to have their children thus occupied. They might as well be ashamed of the gambols of the kitten or the lamb; or of the grave mother, as she turns aside occasionally to join in its frolics. When will parents be willing to take lessons in education from that brute world which they have been so long accustomed to overlook or despise?



CHAPTER XVIII.

EMPLOYMENTS.

Influence of mothers over daughters. Anecdote of Benjamin West. Anecdote of a poor mother. Of set lessons and lectures. Daughters under the mother's eye. Why young ladies, now-a-days, dislike domestic employments. Miserable housewives—not to be wondered at. Mistake of one class of men. Mr. Flint's opinion.

One important and never-to-be-forgotten employment of the young is the cultivation of their minds; and another, that of their morals. But my present purpose is only to speak of those employments denominated manual, or physical.

It is obvious, at the first glance, that the influence of the mother, in our own country, at least, will be less over boys than over girls. We leave it to savages and semi-savages to employ their females, and even their mothers, in hard manual labor. Here, in America, what I should say on the employment of boys would be more properly addressed to the YOUNG FATHER.

There are some exceptions to the general truth contained in the last paragraph. Many a mother has—unconsciously at the time, but with no less certainty than if she had done it intentionally—given a direction to the whole current of her son's life; and this, too, at a very early period. The mother of Benjamin West, the painter, if she did not give the first tendency to his favorite pursuit, while he was yet a mere child, at the least greatly confirmed him in it, by the manner of expressing her surprise at one of his early performances. "My mother's kiss," on that occasion, said he, "made me a painter." Nor are facts of the same general character by any means uncommon.

I know a poor mother who, in the absence of her husband at his weekly or monthly labors, used to detain her eldest boy, then almost an infant, from going to bed in the evening till her day's work was finished—because, in her loneliness, she wanted his company—by telling stories of eminent men, and especially of distinguished philanthropists, until she had unconsciously kindled in him a philanthropic spirit, which will not cease to burn till his death.

But it is in forming the predilections of daughters for their destined employments, that mothers are especially influential. Not so much by their set lessons or lectures, however, as by the force of continued example. No mother who sends her child away to be nursed, and subsequently to her return seizes on every possible opportunity to keep her out of the way and out of her sight, will be likely to give her any choice of employment, or indeed any fondness for employment at all.

Nor is it sufficient that she keep her daughter constantly under her eye, with a view to qualify her for the duties of a housewife, if the daughter see as plainly as in the light of mid-day, that the mother dislikes the employment herself. She must love what she would have her daughter love, and even what she would have her understand. Nor is it sufficient that she affect a fondness for the employment; her love for it must be real. Little girls have keener eyes and better judgments than some mothers seem willing to believe or to admit.

Many persons seem greatly surprised that the young ladies of modern days have so little fondness for domestic life and domestic duties. How few, it is often said, will do their own housework, if they can possibly get a train of domestics around them; even though the care and oversight of the domestics themselves gear them out more rapidly than bodily labor would.

But there is a reason for this hostility to domestic employments. It is because mothers, almost universally, consider their occupations as mere drudgery, and bring up their children in the same spirit. And what else could be expected as the result? It would be an anomaly in the history, of human nature, if the female members of families were to grow up in love with ordinary domestic avocations, when they have been accustomed to see their mothers, and nurses, and elder sisters complaining and fretting while engaged in them; and showing by their actions, no less than by their words, that they regarded themselves as miserable and wretched.

No wonder so many girls, of the present day, make miserable housewives. No wonder a factory, a book-bindery, or a shoemaker's shop, is considered preferable to the kitchen. No wonder the world degenerates, because females, no longer healthfully employed, become pale and sickly, spreading gloom and misery all around them, and transmitting the same ills which themselves suffer to those who come after them.

It is true, the guilt of this dereliction must not be charged wholly on mothers; though they ought, unquestionably, to bear a large share of it. Those who have, and ought to have, much influence in society, erroneously, and I suppose thoughtlessly, help mothers along in their evil ways. If there were a universal combination between certain classes of mankind and the whole race of mothers, to ruin, rather than be instrumental of reforming mankind, and of saving their deathless souls, I hardly know how they could invent a much better, or at least a much more certain plan, than that now in operation. So long as those who take the lead in society, and govern the fashion in this matter, as others govern it in the matter of dress, refuse, as a general rule, to form alliances for life, except with those who practically despise house-hold concerns—and so long as our houses are filled with domestics, whose object is to aid these spoiled mothers, but whose real effect is to complete their ruin, and accelerate the ruin of mankind—just so long will human progress towards perfection be retarded.

If mothers were in love with their occupations, and their daughters knew it, then to the influence of a good example they could add many lessons of instruction. These might be given in the way of natural, unstudied conversation, and thus be not only heard with attention, but sink deep. If the world is ever to be reformed, says Mr. Flint, in his Western Review, woman, sensible, enlightened, well educated and principled, must be the original mover in the great work. Every one who has considered well the extent and nature of female influence, will concur in the sentiment; and if he have one remaining particle of devotion to the Father of spirits, he will send up the most fervent petitions to his throne of mercy in behalf of this often depressed or enslaved half of the human race, that they may speedily be emancipated, and become as conspicuous in human redemption, as they have sometimes been in human condemnation.



CHAPTER XIX.

EDUCATION OF THE SENSES.

Improving the senses. Examples of improvement. SEC. 1. Hearing—how injured—how improved.—SEC. 2. Seeing—how injured.—SEC. 3. Tasting and smelling—how benumbed—how preserved.—SEC. 4. Feeling. The blind. Hints to parents. Education of both hands.

Man is much less useful and happy in this world than he would be, if more pains were taken by parents and teachers, as well as by himself, to cultivate his senses—hearing, seeing, feeling; tasting, and smelling—and to preserve their rectitude.

The extent to which the senses can be improved or exalted, can best be understood by observing how perfect they become when we are compelled to cultivate them. Thus the blind, who are obliged to cultivate hearing, feeling, and smelling, often astonish us by the keenness of these senses. They will distinguish sounds—especially voices—which others cannot; and with so much accuracy, as to remember for several years the voice of a person in a large company, which they hear but once. They will also distinguish small pieces of money, different fabrics and qualities of cloth, &c.; and, in walking, often ascertain, by the feeling of the air, or by other sensations, when they approach a building, or any other considerable body. So the North American Indian, whose habits of life seem to require it, can hear the footsteps of an approaching enemy at distances which astonish us. So also the deaf and dumb are very keen-sighted, and generally make very accurate observations. Any reader who is sceptical in regard to the cultivation of the senses, would do well to consult the account of Julia Brace, the deaf and dumb and blind girl, as published in some of the early volumes of the "Annals of Education."

But it is hardly necessary to resort to the blind, or to savages, or to the deaf and dumb, in order to prove man's susceptibility in this respect. We may be reminded of the same fact by observing with what accuracy the merchant tailor can distinguish, by feeling, the quality of his goods; how quick a painter, an engraver, or a printer, will discover errors in painting or printing, which wholly escape ordinary readers or observers; and how quick the ear of a good musician will discover the existence and origin of a discordant sound in his choir.

Now I do not undertake to say or prove, that mankind would be better or happier for having their senses all cultivated in the highest possible degree; though I am not sure that this would not be the case. But so long as a large proportion of our ideas enter our minds through the medium of the five senses, it is desirable that something should be done to perfect them, instead of overlooking the whole subject. What mothers ought to do in this matter, deserves, therefore, a brief consideration.

SEC. 1. Hearing.

The suggestion, in another place, to keep away caps from the child's head, if duly attended to, is one means of perfecting, or at least of preserving, the sense of hearing. For caps, by the heat they produce to a part which cannot safely endure an increase of temperature, greatly expose children to catarrhal affections; and many a catarrh has laid the foundation for dulness of hearing, if not of actual deafness.

The ears should be kept clean. If washed sufficiently often, and syringed once a week with warm milk and water, or with very weak soap-suds, gently warmed, the cerumen or ear wax will hardly be found accumulated in such masses as to produce deafness. And yet such accumulations, with such consequences, are by no means uncommon. It is not long since a young man with whom I am acquainted, applied to an eminent surgeon of Boston, on account of deafness in one ear, which had become quite troublesome, and as it was feared, incurable. Syringing with a large and strong syringe disengaged a large mass of cerumen, and hearing was immediately restored.

Children should be taught to distinguish sounds with closed eyes, or blindfolded. We may strike on various objects, and ask them to tell what we struck, &c. This will lead them to observe sounds; and will perfect their hearing in a remarkable degree.

There are also advantages to be derived from accustoming a child to a great variety of sounds; both as regards their strength and character. But this must only be occasional; for if the ear be constantly accustomed to sounds of any kind, and more especially those which are harsh or loud, the organ of hearing is liable to sustain injury. Music, as it is now beginning to be taught to children in our schools, will do much, I think, to improve the faculty of hearing.

SEC. 2. Seeing.

The sight, says Addison, is the most perfect of all our senses; and this is unquestionably true. But it is more or less perfect, in different individuals, according to the early education they have received. Sometimes, it is true, we are born near-or dim-sighted; but such cases are comparatively rare.

The question is sometimes asked why there are so many persons, now-a-days, who lose their sight, become near-sighted, &c. very young. It may be difficult to answer this question fully; yet I cannot help thinking that the following are some of the causes.

1. The great heat of our apartments, which, together with late hours and much lamp light, affects the eyes unpleasantly, is believed to be among the more prominent causes of early decay of sight. Formerly, our apartments were neither so steadily nor so generally heated; and we rose earlier, and consequently went to bed earlier.

2. The fine print of a large proportion of our books, especially our school books, has done immense injury. I do not believe that reading fine print, occasionally, for a few moments at a time, or reading by a very strong or very weak light in the same way, does harm. On the contrary, I think it may strengthen and improve the sight. It is the long continuance of these things that does the mischief; and the mischief thus done is immense. I rejoice that printers and publishers are beginning of late to use much larger type than they have done for some years past.

3. The early use of spectacles does mischief—I mean before they are needed. After they begin to be needed, there is no advantage in delaying to use them, as some do, for fear they shall wear them too soon. This is about as wise as the practice of going cold to harden ourselves.

4. Reading when we are fatigued, or ill, or have a very full stomach, is another way to injure the sight.

5. Rubbing the eyes with the fingers, or with anything else, does inevitable mischief. The Germans have a proverb which says—"Never touch your eye, except with your elbow." There is much of good sense in it.

In short, there are a thousand ways in which that delicate organ, the human eye, may sustain injury; and nearly as many in which it may be strengthened, cultivated, and improved. But my limits merely permit me to add, that the frequent but gentle application of water to the eye, several times a day, at such a temperature as is most agreeable—but cold, when it can be borne—is one of the best preservatives of sight which the world affords.

Connected alike with physical and intellectual education, is the practice of measuring by the eye heights, distances, superfices, weights, and solids. It is not difficult to train the eye to an accuracy in this matter which would astonish the uninstructed.

SEC. 3. Tasting and Smelling.

I do not know that it is worth our while to take pains, by any direct methods, to cultivate the organs of taste or smell; but I think it proper, at the least, to preserve their original rectitude.

Many, I know, undertake to say, that were it not for our errors in regard to food and drink, and were it not, in particular, for the multitude of strange mixtures which tend to benumb those two senses, we might determine the qualities of food and drink—whether they are favorable or adverse—by means of taste and smell, like the animals. But I do not believe this. The Creator has substituted reason, in us, for instinct in the brute animals. It is not necessary that we should possess the latter, when the former is so manifestly superior to it; and accordingly I do not believe that it is given us, or any of that acuteness of sensation which exists in the dog, the tiger, the vulture, &c.—and which so closely resembles it.

There can be no doubt—no reasonable doubt, certainly—that the wretched customs of modern cookery benumb the senses of taste and smell, more or less, and that high-seasoned food, condiments, and stimulating drinks do the same; and should for this reason, were it for no other, be studiously avoided.

Closely connected with the organ of taste are the TEETH. A volume might profitably be written on these—as on the eye. But I will only say that they should be kept perfectly clean, either by rinsing or brushing, or both, especially after eating; that they should be permitted to chew all our food, instead of merely standing by as silent spectators to the passage of that which is mashed, soaked, chopped, &c.; that they should not be picked or cleaned with pins, or other equally hard instruments; that they should not be used to crack nuts or other hard, indigestible substances; and that the stomach, with which they are apt to sympathize very strongly, should also be kept in a good and healthy condition.

SEC. 4. Feeling.

Corpulence and slovenliness are generally among the more prolific sources of a want of acuteness in feeling. The first is a disease, and may be avoided by a proper diet, and by active mental and bodily employment. Slovenliness we may of course avoid, whenever there is a wish to do so, and an abundance of water.

But the sense of feeling, or especially that accumulation of it which we call TOUCH, and which seems to be specially located in the balls of the fingers and on the palm of the hand, is susceptible of a degree of improvement far beyond what would be the natural result of cleanliness, and freedom from plethora or corpulence.

I have already alluded, in my general remarks at the head of this chapter, to the acuteness of this sense in the blind, as well as in the dealer in cloths. I might add many more illustrations, but a single one, in relation to the blind, which was accidentally omitted in that place, will be sufficient.

The blind at the Institution in this city, as well as in other similar institutions, are now taught to read and write with considerable facility. But how? Most of my readers may have heard how they read, but I will describe the process as well as I can. A description of their method of writing is more difficult.

The letters are formed by pressing the paper, while quite moist, upon rather large type, which raises a ridge in the line of every letter, and which remains prominent after the paper is dry. In order to read, the pupil has to feel out these ridges. A circular ridge on the paper he is told is O; a perpendicular one, I; a crooked one, S; &c. They read music and arithmetic printed in a similar manner. A few months of practice, in this way, will enable an ingenious youth to read with considerable ease and despatch.

Now if nothing is wanting but a little training to render the touch so accurate, would it not be useful to train every child to judge frequently of the properties of bodies by this sense? And cannot every one recall to his mind a thousand situations in which a greater accuracy of this sense would have saved him much inconvenience, as well as afforded him no little pleasure?

I shall conclude this section with a few remarks on the HAND. The custom of neglecting, or almost neglecting the left hand, though nearly universal, in this country at least, appears to me to be wrong—decidedly so. For although more blood may be sent to the right arm than to the left, as physiologists say, yet the difference is not as great at birth as it is afterward; so that education either weakens the one or strengthens the other.

Besides this, we occasionally find a person who is left-handed, as it is called; that is, his left hand and arm are as much larger and stronger than the right, as the right is usually stronger than the left. How is this? Do we find a corresponding change in the internal structure? But suppose it could be ascertained that such a change did exist, which I believe has never been done, the question would still arise whether the difference was the same at birth, or whether the more frequent use of the left hand has not, in part, produced it.

I do not mean, here, to intimate that a more frequent use of the left hand than the right would make new blood-vessels grow where there were none before. But it would certainly do one thing; it would make the same vessels carry more blood than they did before, which is, in effect, nearly the same thing:—for the more blood in the limb, as a general rule, the more strength—provided the limb is in due health and exercise.

The inference which I wish the reader to make from all this is, that since the left hand and arm, by due cultivation, and without essential difference or change of structure to begin with, can occasionally be made stronger than the right, it is fair to conclude that it may, if found desirable, be always rendered more nearly equal to it than, in adult years, we usually find it.

The question is now fairly before us—Is such a result desirable? I maintain that it is; and shall endeavor to show my reasons.

How often is one hand injured by an accident, or rendered nearly useless by disease? But if it should be the right, how helpless it makes us! The man who is accustomed to shave himself, must now resort to a barber. If he is a barber himself, or almost any other mechanic, his business must be discontinued. Or if he is a clerk, he cannot use his left hand, and must consequently lose his time. Or if amputation chances to be performed on a favorite arm, how entirely useless to society we are, till we have learned to use the other! It not only takes up a great deal of valuable time to acquire a facility of using it, but if we are already arrived at maturity, we can never use it so well as the other, during our whole lives; because it is too late in life to increase its size and strength much by constant exercise. Whereas in youth, it might have been done easily.

Is it not then important—for these and many more reasons—to teach a child to use with nearly equal readiness, both of his hands? But if so, who can do it better than the mother? And when can it be better done than in the earliest infancy? When is the time which would be devoted to it worth less than at this period?



CHAPTER XX.

ABUSES.

Bad seats for children at table and elsewhere. Why children hate Sunday. Seats at Sabbath school—at church—at district schools. Suspending children between the heavens and the earth. Cushions to sit on. Seats with backs. Children in factories. Evils produced. Bodily punishment. Striking the heads of children very injurious. Beating across the middle of the body. Anecdote of a teacher. Concluding advice to mothers.

It is difficult to determine, in regard to many things which concern the management of the young, whether they belong most properly to moral or physical education; so close is the connection between the two, and so decidedly does everything, or nearly everything which relates to the management of the body, have a bearing upon the formation of moral character. This work might be extended very much farther, did it comport with my original plan. But I hasten to close the volume, with a few thoughts on certain abuses of the body, which prevail to a greater or less extent in families and schools; and to which I have not adverted elsewhere.

The seats of children are usually bad, both at table and elsewhere. It seems not enough that we condemn them to the use of knives, forks, spoons, &c., of the same size with those of adults. We go farther; and give them chairs of the same height and proportion with our own. There are a few exceptions to the truth of this remark. Here and there we see a child's chair, it is true—but not often.

But how unreasonable is it to seat a child in a chair so high that his feet cannot reach the floor; and so constructed that there is no outer place on which the feet can rest. What adult would be willing to sit in so painful a posture, with his legs dangling? No wonder children dislike to sit much, in such circumstances. And it is a great blessing to both parent and child that they do. No wonder children hate the Sabbath, especially in those families where they are compelled to keep the day holy by sitting motionless! Sabbath schools, though they bring with them some evil along with a great deal of good, are a relief to the young in this particular—especially if their seats are more comfortable elsewhere than at home. They consider it much more tolerable to spend the morning and intermission of the day in going and returning from Sabbath school, than in constant and close confinement. They prefer variety, and the occasional light and air of heaven, to monotony and seclusion and silence.

It happens, however, that the seats at the Sabbath school and at church, are not always what they should be; nor, so far as church is concerned, do I see that this evil can be wholly avoided. Children usually sit with their parents, in the sanctuary—and they ought to do so: and the height of the seats cannot, of course, accommodate both. If there is a building erected solely for the use of the Sabbath school, the seats may be constructed accordingly, without seriously incommoding anybody; but in the church, I do not see, as I have once before observed, how the evil can be remedied.

The greatest trouble in regard to seats, however, is at the day school; especially in our district or common schools. There, it is usual for children to be confined six hours a day—and sometimes two in succession—to hard, narrow, plank seats, a large proportion of which are without backs, and raised so high that the feet of most of the pupils cannot possibly touch the floor. There, "suspended," as I have said in another work, [Footnote: See a "Prize Essay," on School Houses, page 7.] "between the heavens and the earth, they are compelled to remain motionless for an hour or an hour and a half together."

I have also shown, in the same essay, that in regard to the desks, and indeed many other things which pertain to, or are connected with the school, very little pains is taken to provide for the physical welfare or even comfort of the pupils; and that a thorough reform on the subject appears to be indispensable.

When I speak of hard plank seats, let me not be understood as hinting at the necessity of cushions. When I wrote the essay above mentioned, I did indeed believe that they were desirable. But I am now opposed to their use, either by children or adults, even where a laborious employment would seem to demand a long confinement to this awkward and unnatural position. If our seats are cushioned, we shall sit too easily. I believe that our health requires a hard seat; because its very hardness inclines us to change, frequently, our position.

But if we must sit, be it ever so short a time, our seats should always have backs; and those which are designed for children, should not be so high as to render them uncomfortable. Nor should the backs of seats be so high as they usually are, either for children or adults. They should never come much higher than the middle of the body. If they reach the shoulders, they either favor a crouching forward, or interfere with the free action of the lungs.

This might be deemed a proper place for saying something on the position of children in manufactories. But here a world of abuse opens upon my view, the full development of which demands a large volume. How many crooked spines, emaciated bodies, decaying lungs, as well as scrofulas, fevers, and consumptions, are either induced or accelerated by these unnatural employments! I mean they are unnatural for the young. As to employing adults in them, I have nothing at present to say. But when I think of the cruel custom of placing children in these places, whose bodies—and were this the place, I might add, minds—are immature, and especially girls, I am compelled, by the voice of conscience, and, as I trust, by a regard to those laws which God has established in our physical frames, but which are yet so strangely violated, to protest against it. Better that no factories should exist, than that children should be ruined in them as they now are. Better by far that we should return, were it possible, to the primitive habits of New England—to those by-gone days when mothers and daughters made the wearing apparel of themselves and their families—when, if there was less of intellectual cultivation, and less money expended for luxuries and extravagances, there was much more of health and happiness.

There is one more species of abuse to which, in closing, I wish to direct maternal attention. I allude to injudicious modes of inflicting corporal punishment.

Let me not be understood to appear, in this place, as the advocate of bodily punishments of any kind; for if they are even admissible under some circumstances, I am fully convinced that in the way in which they are commonly administered, they do much more harm than good.

But leaving the question of their utility, in the abstract, wholly untouched, and taking it for granted, for the present, that they are—as is undoubtedly the fact—sometimes employed, and will continue to be so for a great while to come, I proceed to speak of their more flagrant abuses.

Among these, none are more reprehensible than blows of any kind on the head. Even the rod is objectionable for this purpose, since it exposes the eyes. But the hand—in boxing the ears or striking in any way—is more so. The bones of the head, in young children, are not yet firmly knit together, and these concussions may injure the tender brain. I know of whole families, whose mental faculties are dull, as the consequence—I believe—of a perpetual boxing and striking of the head. Some individuals are made almost idiots, in this very manner.—But the worst is not yet told. Many teachers are in the habit of striking their pupils' heads with thick heavy books; and with wooden rules. I have seen one of the latter, of considerable size and thickness, broken in two across the head of a very small boy; and this, too—such is the public mind—in the presence of a mother who was paying a visit to the school. I have seen parents and masters strike the heads of their children with pieces of wood, of much larger size;—in one instance with a common sized tailor's press-board; in another with the heavy end of a wooden whip-handle, about an inch in diameter.

Children are sometimes severely beaten across the middle of the body—the region where lie the vital organs—the lungs, the heart, the liver, &c. They are sometimes beaten too, across the joints, or in any place that the excited, perhaps passionate teacher or parent can reach. Rules and books are thrown with violence at pupils in school. There is a story in the "Annals of Education," Vol. IV. at page 28, of a teacher who threw a rule at a little boy, six years old, which struck him with great force, within an inch of one of his eyes. Had it struck a little nearer to his nose, it would, in all probability, have destroyed his left eye.

* * * * *

But without extending these remarks any farther, every intelligent mother who reads what I have already written, will see, as I trust, the necessity of properly informing herself on the great subject of physical education; and of being better prepared than she has hitherto been for acquitting herself, with satisfaction, of those high and sacred responsibilities which, in the wise arrangements of Nature and Providence, devolve upon her.

THE END