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dren, from whom my father expected, and afterwards received, a very considerable legacy. The old gentleman, for some time, treated me with the greatest kindness; but one day, when I had been walking with the housekeeper, for the benefit of the air, she called with me on a lady, who happened to be at dinner, and who requested us to refresh ourselves. I did so, with some tarts and sweetmeats. On our return to my uncle's house, his dinner being ready, I was placing myself at the table, as usual, when he asked me if I had not already dined. I answered, no. He frowned and asked the housekeeper-if I had not. She replied, yes. I was immediately accused of having told a falsehood, and ordered to confinement, to live on bread and water, for six days, in a back room; then only to be released on condition that I should perfectly recite a psalm.

Some may smile, and say, this was a good lesson, as it prepared me for future occurrences of a similar nature. I will not contradict such judges of predisposing causes; but, this I will say, that I should not have suf fered imprisonment an hour, had not a predisposing obstinacy determined me to endure it; because I had been taught to believe myself a hero.

No successful, and, perhaps, therefore, no judicious means having been adopted for the eradication of false notions, the predominant ingrafted passion had full play; and while my uncle thought that he was punishing me, I had sense enough to feel that I was distressing him and all his family: triumphant in idea, I actually became the character I had before but assumed, and determined not to pay the smallest attention to the task they had assigned me. The housekeeper relented; but I re

mained firm. The servants were continually offering milk, and other delicacies, adapted to the taste of a child now about five years old. I would accept of none. But on a Sunday, the sixth day of my confinement, the ringing of the church bells excited in me an inclination, totally independent of repentance or submission. I was conscious of no fault: for, I certainly did not esteem the refreshments I had taken, as a dinner, and thought the only crime that was committed was the punishment of innocence. But I panted for liberty, and knew that I could bargain for it by the fruits of a few hours study. I learnt the psalm-gave notice of my readiness to recite it my prison door was opened-I was received by my uncle in his parlour-I remember the moment well -I remember too, my feelings-I bowed my body, and he thought he had conquered me; but he had only rivetted the bolt that had before secured my soul-imprisoned thoughts. With outward calmness I stood silent as he spoke; with inward anger I disdained his treatment of me. He suffered me to fret and vex myself and others for some weeks after; then returned me to my father.

Surely, severity to infants, must prove the bane to every correct disposition in adults; as much so, as that which we call indulgence, when we give them what they wish, to quiet them. Each conduct is reproachable, and the smallest consideration will prove it so. The candid, austere parent will admit, that his own ease frequently induces punishment-the tenderest mother will confess, that her own rest sometimes advocates indulgences her reason would condemn. But it is Art that plants the pain-that ingrafts desire-that produces unintended errors. Nature gives not the infant pains

Nature demands not those compounded delicacies, which stimulates the taste, while they enfeeble the essential powers of preservation--she tells him not to err; but, trusting to the meadows and the fields, to drink and eat her unpolluted gifts. When cries the sturdy labourer's infant, it is for milk and corn-when the poor, child of fashion whines, it is for poisonous nau, seates, the death-inviting sweets, that glut but to produce a future craving-the body weak, and repugnant to its wholesome food, the mind partakes its cares, and sharing with it a defiled diet, preys on the passions till 'tis gorged.

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Each error, as each plant, must have its seed; in both, the embryo particle is sometimes so minute, as to escape the eye of observation. The seed, which imperceptibly was wafted to the surface of my breast, found not a barren or reluctant soil; it sank, swelled, rooted in it, and sprang up; looking around for adequate support-but metaphor apart-it found encouragement in the company of children, of nearly my own age, wherein, under the exterior garb of courage, my obstinacy brought me into many difficulties; that introduced mediums of such multiform densities, that, like the rays of light, my beams of understanding were forced occasionally to diverge, and, consequently, could never be as. sured of moving in a strait line.

My father, as I have before observed, being engaged in the Navy Pay-office, could not reside constantly in one place: subject to the orders of his government, he was constantly removed from one seaport to the other. At this time he resided about a mile from London; and I was sent to school to learn the elements of grammar,

and writing. I had been at the school some months, and had been occasionally flattered by praises of my proficiency, when a brother of my father called on him one afternoon, and requested to see me. I was sent for, with a message that my uncle, the purser of the Thunderer man of war, desired to see me. This was a thundering message to a child, who knew himself to have been that day in fault.

Reader! I have hesitated ten minutes, in an attempt to determine, whether I should relate or not, the cause of my errors this day; but, as the errors were great to which it led, I find myself induced to relate an almost ridiculous occurrence, for the sake of its effect.

The night had been stormy; much rain had fallen; the roads were very muddy, and my indulgent mother had persuaded me to wear my sister's pattens while walking to the school, to keep my feet unwetted. As I approached the door of the school-house, I observed the boys assembled, and heard from one of them these words:

"Come now to school let us be gone;

Here's Jemmy Trot, with patteus on."

I felt the dignity of my sex insulted by the remark-I threw off my pattens, and attacked him; but was obliged to yield to his superior power-submission, disdain would have forbidden; but power enforced it. In this instance, my obstinacy could not bear me out; I was forced to acknowledge my antagonist my conquerorBut, from its ashes, the phoenix of my disposition sprang again; and determined on a triumph elsewhere. I did every thing, that morning, purposely, as badly as I could -I tripp'd the scholars as they passed before the mas

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ter; shuffled and scraped; coughed, sneezed, and groaned; till I was ordered to confinement, in a little dark closet adjoining the school-room. Here, by chance, perhaps to save it from the encroaches of the other boys, the cook had hid an apple pye; the guilty fed on it, and what he could not eat, he threw away. I was released at twelve o'clock. That sense of wrong, which even racks the breasts of infants, kept me from my father's house-I went to play with my school-fellows; and thence occurred a circumstance that staggered me-A boy had caught a mouse, and given it to the great guardian dog of our domains-he seemed to me to torture it, and I, feeling for the poor animal, made a grasp at it, for its relief. The dog seized my hand, and bit it with such force, that, with my recollection, I bear his marks this day. My hand was bound up, and I remained till I was sent for to meet my uncle. In the meantime, the reflections of the events of the day puzzled my youthful brain exceedingly-in the morning I had been guilty, knowingly and purposely so, and my punishment had proved a feast on an apple pye-in the afternoon I had attempted to do an act of mercy, and my reward was a bite from a revengeful dog. In this disturbed state of mind and body, I attended the servant to my father's. After customary conversation on such meetings, my uncle requested to see my writing book. I went half way, through the mud; hid myself for some time, and returned without it; saying that I could not get it from my master. My uncle shook his head, as intimating that I had told an untruth; and it produced an effect upon me, similar to that which the gods and goddesses are, by Homer, represented to feel on the nod

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