ng them to put together the eight counties of the small state
of Connecticut. In this case the counties are not only few, but there is
a very striking difference in their shape.

A black board and a piece of chalk, along with a little ingenuity on the
part of the mother, will furnish the child with an almost endless
variety of amusement. Let him attempt to imitate almost any object which
interests him, whether among the works of nature or art. However rude
his pictures may be, do not laugh at, but on the contrary, endeavor to
encourage him. He may also be permitted to imitate letters and figures.
The elements of letters, too, both printed and written, may be given
him, and he may be required to put them together. Dissected pictures, as
well as dissected maps and letters, are useful, and to most children,
very acceptable.

In short, the devices of an ingenious, thinking mother, for the
amusement of her very young children, are almost endless; and the great
danger is, that when a mother once enters deeply into the spirit of
these exercises, she will substitute them for those much more healthy
ones which have been already mentioned, such as require muscular
activity, or may be performed in the open air.

CHAPTER XII.

CRYING.

Its importance. Danger of repressing a tendency to cry. Anecdote from
Dr. Rush. Physiology of crying. Folly of attempting wholly to suppress
it.

"Crying," says Dr. Dewees, "should be looked upon as an exercise of much
importance;" and he is sustained in this view by many eminent medical
writers.

But people generally think otherwise. Nothing is more common than the
idea that to cry is unbecoming; and children are everywhere taught, when
they suffer pain, to brave it out, and _not cry_. Such a direction--to
say nothing of its tendency to encourage hypocrisy--is wholly
unphilosophical. The following anecdote may serve in part to illustrate
my meaning. It is said to have been related by Dr. Rush.

A gentleman in South Carolina was about to undergo a very painful
surgical operation. He had imbibed the idea that it was beneath the
dignity of a man ever to say or do anything expressive of pain. He
therefore refused to submit to the usual precaution of securing the
hands and feet by bandages, declaring to his surgeon that he had nothing
to fear from his being untied, for he would not move a muscle of his
body. He kept his word, it is true; but he died instantly after the
operation, from