aid. I once met two children twelve
years of age, who had just returned from hearing a very able discourse,
delivered before a number of sabbath schools, assembled on some public
occasion. "How did you like the discourse?" said I.

"Very well indeed," they replied, "only," said one of them, smiling, "he
talked to us as if we were all little children."

Girls and boys however young, never consider themselves little children,
for they can always look down upon some younger than themselves. They
are mortified, when treated as though they could not understand what is
really within the reach of their faculties. They do not like to have
their powers underrated; and they are right in this feeling. It is
common to all, old and young.

(2) Children are kept back in learning language, if their teacher makes
effort to _come down_, as it is called, to their comprehension in the
use of words. Notice that I say, _in the use of words_, for as I shall
show presently, it is absolutely necessary to come down to the
comprehension of children, in some other respects. If however, in the
use of words, those who address children, confine themselves to such
words as children already understand, how are they to make progress in
that most important of all studies, the knowledge of language. Many a
mother keeps back her child, in this way, to a degree that is hardly
conceivable; thus doing all in her power to perpetuate in the child an
ignorance of its mother tongue.

Teachers ought to make constant efforts to increase their scholars'
stock of words, by using new ones from time to time, taking care to
explain them when the connexion does not do it for them. So that instead
of _coming down_ to the language of childhood, he ought rather to go as
far away from it, as he possibly can, without leaving his pupils behind
him.

(3) But perhaps the greatest evil of this practice is, it satisfies the
teacher. He thinks he addresses his pupils in the right manner, and
overlooks, altogether, the real peculiarities, in which the power to
interest the young depends. He talks to them in simple language, and
wonders why they are not interested. He certainly is _plain_ enough. He
is vexed with them for not attending to what he says, attributing it to
their dulness or regardlessness of all that is useful or good, instead
of perceiving that the great difficulty is his own want of skill. These
three evils are sufficient to deter the teacher from the practice.