of the things that would make for her
own peace, as well as for the child's. Matters grow worse, instead of
better, as the child grows older and has more will; and the chances are
that the poor little soul will be worried into her grave.

Probably most parents, even very kindly ones, would be a little startled
at the assertion that a child ought never to be reproved in the presence
of others. This is so constant an occurrence that nobody thinks of
noticing it; nobody thinks of considering whether it be right and best, or
not. But it is a great rudeness to a child. I am entirely sure that it
ought never to be done. Mortification is a condition as unwholesome as it
is uncomfortable. When the wound is inflicted by the hand of a parent, it
is all the more certain to rankle and do harm. Let a child see that his
mother is so anxious that he should have the approbation and good-will of
her friends that she will not call their attention to his faults; and
that, while she never, under any circumstances, allows herself to forget
to tell him afterward, alone, if he has behaved improperly, she will spare
him the additional pain and mortification of public reproof; and, while
that child will lay these secret reproofs to heart, he will still be
happy.

I know a mother who had the insight to see this, and the patience to make
it a rule; for it takes far more patience, far more time, than the common
method.

She said sometimes to her little boy, after visitors had left the parlor,
"Now, dear, I am going to be your little girl, and you are to be my papa.
And we will play that a gentleman has just come in to see you, and I will
show you exactly how you have been behaving while this lady has been
calling to see me. And you can see if you do not feel very sorry to have
your little girl behave so."

Here is a dramatic representation at once which that boy does not need to
see repeated many times before he is forever cured of interrupting, of
pulling his mother's gown, of drumming on the piano, &c.,--of the thousand
and one things which able-bodied children can do to make social visiting
where they are a martyrdom and a penance.

Once I saw this same little boy behave so boisterously and rudely at the
dinner-table, in the presence of guests, that I said to myself, "Surely,
this time she will have to break her rule, and reprove him publicly." I
saw several telegraphic signals of rebuke, entreaty, and warning flash
from her gentle eyes t