th it."

"Yes," said Miss Letitia; "and the same philosophical spirit regulates
the education of the child throughout. An American gentleman, who
wished to live in Paris, told me that, having searched all over it, he
could not accommodate his family, including himself and wife and two
children, without taking _two_ of the suites that are usually let to
one family. The reason, he inferred, was the perfection of the system
which keeps the French family reduced in numbers. The babies are out
at nurse, sometimes till two, and sometimes till three years of age;
and, at seven or eight, the girl goes into a pension, and the boy
into a college, till they are ready to be taken out,--the girl to be
married, and the boy to enter a profession: so the leisure of parents
for literature, art, and society is preserved."

"It seems to me the most perfectly dreary, dreadful way of living I
ever heard of," said Mrs. Ferguson, with unwonted energy. "How I pity
people who know so little of real happiness!"

"Yet the French are dotingly fond of children," said Mrs. Follingsbee.
"It's a national peculiarity; you can see it in all their literature.
Don't you remember Victor Hugo's exquisite description of a mother's
feelings for a little child in 'Notre Dame de Paris'? I never read any
thing more affecting; it's perfectly subduing."

"They can't love their children as I did mine," said Mrs. Ferguson:
"it's impossible; and, if that's what's called organizing society, I
hope our society in America never will be organized. It can't be that
children are well taken care of on that system. I always attended to
every thing for my babies _myself_; because I felt God had put them
into my hands perfectly helpless; and, if there is any thing difficult
or disagreeable in the case, how can I expect to _hire_ a woman for
money to be faithful in what I cannot do for love?"

"But don't you think, dear madam, that this system of personal
devotion to children may be carried too far?" said Mrs. Follingsbee.
"Perhaps in France they may go to an extreme; but don't our American
women, as a rule, sacrifice themselves too much to their families?"

"_Sacrifice_"! said Mrs. Ferguson. "How can we? Our children are our
new life. We live in them a thousand times more than we could in
ourselves. No, I think a mother that doesn't take care of her own baby
misses the greatest happiness a woman can know. A baby isn't a mere
animal; and it is a great and solemn thing to