hat they diminish all temptation, at the same time that
they strengthen the habits of obedience.

Other circumstances will deter servants from running any hazard
themselves; they will not be so fond of children who do not live with
them; they will consider them as beings moving in a different sphere.
Children who are at ease with their parents, and happy in their
company, will not seek inferior society; this will be attributed to
pride by servants, who will not like them for this reserve. So much
the better. Children who are encouraged to converse about every thing
that interests them, will naturally tell their mothers if any one
talks to them; a servant's speaking to them would be an extraordinary
event to be recorded in the history of the day. The idea that it is
dishonourable to tell tales, should never be put into their minds;
they will never be the spies of servants, nor should they keep their
secrets. Thus, as there is no faith expected from the children, the
servants will not trust them; they will be certain of detection, and
will not transgress the laws.

It may not be impertinent to conclude these minute precepts with
assuring parents, that in a numerous family, where they have for above
twenty years been steadily observed, success has been the uniform
result.

FOOTNOTES:

[33] Verbatim from what has been really said to a boy.

[34] Perhaps an institution for the education of attendants upon
children, would be of the highest utility.

Mr. ---- had once an intention of educating forty children for this
purpose; from amongst whom he proposed to select eight or ten as
masters for future schools upon the same plan.

[35] V. The comedy of Wild Oats.

[36] Burke.

[37] Rousseau.

[38] V. Sancho Panza.

CHAPTER V.

ACQUAINTANCE.

"The charming little dears!" exclaims a civil acquaintance, the moment
the children are introduced. "Won't you come to me, love?" At this
question, perhaps, the bashful child backs towards its nurse, or its
mother; but in vain. Rejected at this trying crisis by its natural
protectors, it is pushed forward into the middle of the circle, and
all prospect of retreat being cut off, the victorious stranger seizes
upon her little victim, whom she seats, without a struggle, upon her
lap. To win the affections of her captive, the lady begins by a direct
appeal to personal vanity: "Who curls this pretty hair of yours, my
dear? Won't you let me look at your nice new red shoes