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others, had been arranged neatly in a row: I made an effort, extricated myself, and falling on one of them broke it in pieces.

I flew and hid myself, but little hurt, in a place where I could observe their proceedings: after remaining for some time, and finding that no person had been alarmed by my escape, I retreated to a very comfortable spot, being plentifully supplied with cherries, and there remained during the whole of the day, having determined to punish with anxiety my friendly relation, who had attempted to punish me with confinement.

I confess that I smiled frequently at the different cries of anxiety which I heard for me; however, I remained firm till evening, when feeling those natural compulsions, which will, even in despite of ourselves, reduce obstinacy to compliance, I returned creepingly to my aunt, and was by her embraced, as if one arm encompassed me with love, and the other with reproaches.

The incidents of physical childhood are now past, but the moral childhood remains. Pause a moment, reader!―let me relate to you a curious circumstance: I am justified in so doing, by the example of one of the most abstruse of the ancient modern philosophers, who paused in the midst of a laborious work, to relate his anecdote of a sparrow. I find my self now beginning the fortieth page of my manuscript; while writing the first words, the lines of Dr. Young struck me forcibly on seeing the number of the page.

"At thirty man suspects himself a fool;
At forty knows it, and reforms his plan;
At fifty chides his infamous delay;

Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve;
In all the magnanimity of thought,

Resolves and re-resolves, and dies the same."

By a strange coincidence I immediately found, on turning to the thirtieth (in manuscript) of this history, that I therein confessed my suspicions of my being wrong, and in this page I was about to express a full acknowledgment of the same, when the above words of Dr. Young occurred to me; and finding that the number of pages corresponded with the years mentioned by Dr. Young, I have thought the anecdote, though trifling, worth relating.

The childish incidents, as I observed, are now past. They were introduced solely for the purpose, yet I think it an important purpose, of proving how vigilantly the attention of parents should be directed towards the constitution and disposition of the child, for

"Habits are soon assumed, but when we strive
To leave them off, 'tis being flay'd alive."

The human mind, in our earlier infancy, is impressible, and liquid as the melted wax, prepared to close at once on the impression that may be made on it, and, like the cooled wax, retains it as its proper stamp. Reason, in infants, very soon succeeds to instinct; this moment is easily discernible by mothers, but they frequently mistake its origin; they are in raptures when they observe, for the first time, their blessing eyes meeting their infant's eyes; acknowledging their tenderness; they press them to their breasts-when the first transport

has subsided, they feed their tenderness with a second gaze, then seal affection's vows.

But these cannot be considered as the first fruits of affection. Affection, guided by instinct, had been shown and felt before; they are the dawning beams of reason, whose brightning rays dart from the eyes, meet the attentive mother's gaze, and thence, conveyed to the sweet welcome of the soul, whisper with the sweet breath of innocence," remember, I am a human being.”

Then, then, ye mothers! turn your attention to the mind; watch each emotion that succeeds your favour or displeasure; what delights, or what disgusts it. Acquaint yourselves thoroughly with their dispositions, perhaps, several dispositions; there is nothing so fatal to all, as to treat all alike, as if one general disposition pervaded the whole.

Be careful when you rebuke, that you rebuke for real, and not fancied error: punish not mistakes as you would punish vice. Children frequently commit actions under the impression of their innocence, which, to parents, appear wanton crimes: they frequently err from ignorance of right or wrong: examine well the motive of action, before you rebuke innocence-innocence rebuked, shrinks even from the acts of innocence.

Guilt, too, is only hardened by severe punishment, which creates a fear, a terror, and, sometimes, a hatred of its authoritative inflictor.

One day I had taken a penknife from my father's book case, which was left open for the use of the family, with every thing within it-I confess, that I did not use, but abuse it; for I broke it; and being fearful of owning the accident, I threw the knife where it could never

be found. My father missed it on his return home, and asked, with some warmth, who had it. No one owned having taken it: he challenged me. I denied knowing any thing about it, and persevered in the denial of it, through about six months occasional examinations, till at last, when we were without other company, in great good humour, some subject introduced the mention of the penknife; but it was then too late for confession. My obstinacy carried me through; but I think I may safely say, that had he at first taken me aside, and spoken kindly to me, I should have confessed my error, and not told a falsehood.

My father, as I before observed, had been in America, in the suite of one of the governors, at New York, and had always endeavoured to inculcate in me a partiality for the country. I can trace my first impression in its favour, to his observations made to me after my punishment for my invasion of our neighbour's garden, in the course of which he informed me, that in America the peaches grew on hedges. One evening as we were passing a square to visit our doctor, my father, after musing for some time, stopped, and, with a sigh observed, "So, we are going to war with our brethren and our children."I could not comprehend the meaning of the expression, till he explained it in such a way, as to excite in me the liveliest sensations for the welfare of this country; a sensation which grew with my growth, and strengthened with my years, till it procured me the affectionate friendship of all the American students at Edinburgh, and the renewal of it in all whom I have had the happiness of meeting in the United States.

When near eleven years of age, I was placed under the care of the reverend Dr. French, at Bow, near London; he took only thirty scholars, and his school was always full.

After having been there a year or two, I had risen to the head class, and began to indulge freely my disposition. Some boy had conveyed to the master, one day, perhaps in consequence of a private quarrel, intelligence that I had uttered improper words, of which fault, I then believed, as I now believe, that I was completely innocent. The master called me before him. I attended-he desired me to write on a slate, the two following lines of Pope, with which I was then totally unacquainted:

"Immodest words admit of no defence,

For want of decency is want of sense."

As the master delivered them to me, I really did not understand what I was to write-I could not do it, and after I had made several useless attempts, the master became angry, and imputing my failure to my obstinacy, struck me several times, with a little cane he was accustomed to use.

"I knew it well, and every truant knew."

Then, indeed, was my obstinacy excited. I then would not do it: he thrashed and thrashed till his arms were tired, with no effect. I continued voluntarily bungling, till, at last, apparently fatigued with his efforts, he dismissed my body to my seat, yet did not dismiss the obstinacy of my disposition, but left in it all the pride of triumph to increase.

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