and coldest storm that ever blew in those regions, did not keep him from the meeting-house on the Sabbath, no matter what the distance might be."(P. 7.) We may add, that the more that a parent acts, in his dealings with his children, with unreserved frankness and cordiality, and the more that he makes himself their friend and companion, so much the stronger hold will he get both of their confidence and their affections, and so much the easier will it be for him to train them as he would desire.

We quote a few sentences here from a remarkable work of a remarkable writer--the Christian Nurture of Bushnell—a book, that along with not a little that is fantastic, exaggerated, and defective, contains much important but neglected truth, forcibly and strikingly expressed. In considering the question, What is to be done with the strong will of a child? he writes as follows:-" Beginning then to lift his will in mutiny, and swell in self-asserting obstinacy, refusing to go or come, or stand, or withhold in this or that, let there be no fight begun, or issue made with him, as if it were the true thing now to break his will, or drive him out of it by mere terrors or pains. This wilfulness or obstinacy is not so purely bad or evil as it seems. It is partly his feeling of himself and you, in which he is getting hold of the condition of authority, and feeling

out his limitations.

No, this breaking of the child's

will, to which many well-meaning parents set themselves with such instant, almost passionate resolution, is the way they take to make him a coward, or a thief, or a hypocrite, or a mean-spirited and drivelling sycophant; nothing, in fact, is more dreadful to thought than this breaking of a will, when it breaks, as it often does, the personality itself, and all highest, noblest firmness of manhood. The true problem is different; it is not to break, but to bend rather, to draw the will down or away from selfassertion toward self-devotion, to teach it the way of submitting to wise limitations, and raise it into the great and glorious liberties of a state of loyalty to God. See, then, how this is to be done. The child has no force, however stout he is in his will. Take him up, then, when the fit is upon him, carry him, stand him upon his feet, set him here or there, do just that in him which he refuses to do in himself all this gently and kindly, as if he were capable of maintaining no issue at all. Do it again and again, as often as may be necessary. By and by, he will begin to perceive that his obstinacy is but the fussing of his weakness; till finally, as the sense of limitation comes up to the sense of law and duty, he will be found to have learned, even beforehand, the folly of mere self-assertion. And when he has

reached this point of felt obligation to obedience, it will no longer break him down to enforce his compliance, but it will even exalt into greater dignity and capacity that sublime power of selfgovernment, by which his manhood is to be most distinguished."

In illustration of these remarks of Dr. Bushnell, let us refer to the case of Sir Fowell Buxton, one of the heroes who fought for the abolition of the slave trade. His mother was a woman of masculine understanding, great power of mind, great vigour, and very fearless. Her system of education had in it some striking features. There was little indulgence, but much liberty. The boys were free to go where they would, and do what they pleased, and her oldest son especially was allowed to assume almost the position of master in the house. But on the other hand, her authority, when exercised, was paramount over him, as over his brothers and sisters. On being asked by the mother of a large and illmanaged family, whether the revolutionary principles of the day were not making way among her boys, her reply was, "I know nothing about revolutionary principles; my rule is that imposed on the people of Boston, 'implicit obedience, unconditional submission." Yet the character of her son, Fowell, was not without some strong touches of wilfulness.

He has described himself in more than one of his papers, as having been in his boyhood of a "daring, violent, domineering temper." When this was remarked to his mother, "Never mind," she would say; "he is self-willed now; you will see it will turn out well in the end." She had the good sense not to try to crush his firmness, but get it placed under the control of high principle.

The observation is sometimes made, that the most religious parents have often the worst children. The inference to be drawn from this is more frequently hinted at than expressed; it is often alluded to as a proof that religious earnestness above the average does more harm than good. As to the matter of fact, we believe it to be greatly exaggerated, as indeed most statements are which are designed to deepen prejudices against earnest religion. Still, a residuum of truth remains, and it is important to inquire how, even in exceptional cases, this is to be accounted for. It may be that there is some glaring defect or inconsistency in the character of the parent, which mars the influence of his lessons, and undermines his whole authority. Or it may be that he is over-exacting, and unwisely minute in demanding obedience where some liberty should be allowed, and that thus his child is discouraged. Or 1 Life of Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton.

it may be that he is constantly complaining, never pleased, perpetually finding fault with something, and that he thus alienates the affection of his children. Or he may utterly fail to make religion winsome and genial in its aspect; he may present it only as a system of restraint and self-denial. Or he may too exclusively aim at cultivating the serious side of his children's nature, to the entire neglect of that which is mirthful and humorous. Human nature does possess this twofold side, and both have been given it by God. It is an utterly unwarranted view that ascribes the serious wholly to God, and the humorous wholly to the devil. The trials and difficulties of life often crush the more cheerful and humorous side, and in old people, the serious alone remains. And then these old people forget that the young are young, that the lively and humorous element is yet strong in them; they think they should be as grave as they are, and they denounce everything else as vanity and folly. The result is often an impatience and hatred of the parental yoke ; the first opportunity is taken to escape from it; and the excess of seriousness which created the first prejudice against religion, remains the object of steady hatred.

Our last word on the subject of domestic management, is on the importance of unity on the part of