ater at the right time will bring it forward and
help it to attain soon such a degree of strength and vigor as will make it
independent of all external aid.

But there must be consideration, tact, a proper regard to circumstances,
and, above all, there must be no secret and selfish ends concealed, on the
part of the mother in such cases. You may deluge and destroy your little
plant by throwing on the water roughly or rudely; or, in the case of a boy
upon whose mind you seem to be endeavoring to produce some moral result,
you may really have in view some object of your own--your interest in the
moral result being only a pretense.

For instance, Egbert, under circumstances similar to those recited
above--in respect to the sickness of the boy, and the kind attentions of
his sister--came to his mother one afternoon for permission to go a-fishing
with some other boys who had called for him. He was full of excitement and
enthusiasm at the idea. But his mother was not willing to allow him to go.
The weather was lowering. She thought that he had not yet fully recovered
his health; and she was afraid of other dangers. Instead of saying calmly,
after a moment's reflection, to show that her answer was a deliberate one,
that he could not go, and then quietly and firmly, but without assigning
any reasons, adhering to her decision--a course which, though it could not
have saved the boy from emotions of disappointment, would be the best for
making those feelings as light and as brief in duration as possible--began
to argue the case thus;

"Oh no, Egbert, I would not go a-fishing this afternoon, if I were you. I
think it is going to rain. Besides, it is a nice cool day to work in the
garden, and Lucy would like to have her garden made very much. You know
that she was very kind to you when you were sick--how many things she did
for you; and preparing her garden for her would be such a nice way of
making her a return. I am sure you would not wish to show yourself
ungrateful for so much kindness."

Then follows a discussion of some minutes, in which Egbert, in a fretful
and teasing tone, persists in urging his desire to go a-fishing. He can
make the garden, he says, some other day. His mother finally yields, though
with great unwillingness, doing all she can to extract all graciousness and
sweetness from her consent, and to spoil the pleasure of the excursion to
the boy, by saying as he goes away, that she is sure he ought not to go,
a