y avoid all risks," will probably fall victims to their nervous
alarms and the kind but injudicious training of parents or guardians.

The more I pondered this subject the more deeply impressed did I become
with its great importance to the well-being of mankind, and I was so
profoundly engrossed with it that my companions utterly failed to engage
me in general conversation as we walked briskly along through the
forest. Jack again and again attempted to draw my attention to the
splendour of the curious specimens of tropical foliage and vegetation
through which we passed; but I could not rouse myself to take interest
therein. In vain did Peterkin jest and rally me, and point out the
monkeys that grinned at us ever and anon as we passed beneath them, or
the serpents that glided more than once from our path, I was fascinated
with my train of meditation, and as I could not then give it up until I
had thought it out, so now I cannot pass from the subject until I have
at least endeavoured to guard myself from misconception.

I beg, then, that it will be understood that I do not by any means
inculcate hare-brained recklessness, or a course of training that will
foster that state of mind. On the contrary, the course of training
which I should like to see universally practised would naturally tend to
counteract recklessness, for it would enable a boy to judge correctly as
to what he could and could not do. Take an illustration. A naturally
bold boy has been unwisely trained to be exceedingly careful of himself.
He does not know the extent of his own courage, or the power and
agility of his own muscles; he knows these things to some extent indeed,
but owing to restraint he does not know them fully. Hence he is liable
both to over and under estimate them.

This bold boy--we shall call him Tom--takes a walk into the country with
a friend, whom we shall name Pat. Pat is a bad boy, but he has been
permitted to train his muscles as he pleased, and his natural
disposition has led him to do difficult and sometimes slightly dangerous
things.

"You can't jump over that river, Tom," says Pat.

"Perhaps not," replies Tom: "I never tried such a jump, because my
mother tells me never to go where I am likely to tumble into the water."

"Oh, your mother's a muff!" cries Pat.

"Pat," says Tom, flushing with indignation and confronting his friend,
"don't you ever say that again, else the friendship between you and me
will come to an