ow he could best assist them," children might,
perhaps, reply to those who are most officious to amuse them, "Leave
us to ourselves."

FOOTNOTES:

[2] Dr. Fothergill.

[3] Dr. Beddoes.

[4] We are indebted to Dr. Beddoes for this idea.

[5] We do not mean to do injustice to Mrs. Raffeld's professional
skill.

[6] V. Diderot's ingenious preface to "Chymie de gout et de l'odorat."

CHAPTER II.

TASKS.

"Why don't you get your task, instead of playing with your playthings
from morning till night? You are grown too old now to do nothing but
play. It is high time you should learn to read and write, for you
cannot be a child all your life, child; so go and fetch your _book_,
and learn your _task_."

This angry apostrophe is probably addressed to a child, at the moment
when he is intent upon some agreeable occupation, which is now to be
stigmatized with the name of Play. Why that word should all at once
change its meaning; why that should now be a crime, which was formerly
a virtue; why he, who had so often been desired to _go and play_,
should now be reviled for his obedience, the young casuist is unable
to discover. He hears that he is no longer a child: this he is willing
to believe; but the consequence is alarming. Of the new duties
incumbent upon his situation, he has but yet a confused idea. In his
manly character, he is not yet thoroughly perfect: his pride would
make him despise every thing that is childish, but no change has yet
been wrought in the inward man, and his old tastes and new ambition,
are in direct opposition. Whether to learn to read, be a dreadful
thing or not, is a question he cannot immediately solve; but if his
reasoning faculty be suspended, there is yet a power secretly working
within him, by which he will involuntarily be governed. This power is
the power of association: of its laws, he is, probably, not more
ignorant than his tutor; nor is he aware that whatever word or idea
comes into his mind, with any species of pain, will return, whenever
it is recalled to his memory, with the same feelings. The word Task,
the first time he hears it, is an unmeaning word, but it ceases to be
indifferent to him the moment he hears it pronounced in a terrible
voice. "Learn your task," and "fetch your book," recur to his
recollection with indistinct feelings of pain; and hence, without
further consideration, he will be disposed to dislike both books and
tasks; but his feelings are the last