ad heart of the earth--than to go out to the
cemetery and sit down upon the grave and look at this photograph, and
think of the flesh, now dust, that you beat.

I tell you it is wrong; it is no way to raise children! Make your home
happy. Be honest with them, divide fairly with them in everything.
Give them a little liberty, and you cannot drive them out of the house.
They will want to stay there. Make home pleasant. Let them play any
game they want to. Don't be so foolish as to say: "You may roll balls
on the ground, but you must not roll them on green cloth. You may
knock them with a mallet, but you must not push them with a cue. You
may play with little pieces of paper which have 'Authors' written on
them, but you must not have 'keerds.'" Think of it! "You may go to a
minstrel show, where people blacken themselves up and degrade
themselves, and imitate humanity below themselves, but you must not go
to the theater and see the characters of immortal genius put upon the
stage." Why? Well, I can't think of any reason in the world except
"minstrel" is a word of two syllables and theater has three. Let
children have some daylight at home if you want to keep them there, and
don't commence at the cradle and yell, "Don't!" "Don't!" "Stop!"
That is nearly all that is said to a young one from the cradle until he
is twenty one years old, and when he comes of age other people begin
saying "Don't!" And the church says "Don't!" And the party that he
belongs to says "Don't!" I despise that way of going through this
world. Let us have a little liberty--just a little bit. There is
another thing. In old times, you know, they thought some days were too
good for a child to enjoy himself in. When I was a boy Sunday was
considered altogether too good to be happy in; and Sunday used to
commence then when the sun went down Saturday night. That was to get
good ready--a kind of running jump; and when the sun went down, a
darkness ten thousand times deeper than that of night fell on that
house. Nobody said a word then; nobody laughed; and the child that
looked the sickest was regarded the most pious. You couldn't crack
hickory nuts; you couldn't chew gum; and if you laughed, it was only
another evidence of the total depravity of man. That was a solemn
night; and the next morning everybody looked sad, mournful,
dyspeptic--and thousands of people think they have religion when they
have only got dyspepsia--thousands! But the