useful
and healthy habit in his children. He would inveigh bitterly against the
self-indulgence of the young people of the present day, and against the
modern misuse of time. "Look at the pallid, sickly complexions of some
of the girls you see," he would say. "Do they look fit to be the future
mothers of Englishmen? Poor, feeble creatures, with no backbone to
mention, leading unhealthy, frivolous existences. If my girls are not
handsome, they shall at least be healthy; they shall learn self-control
and self-guidance. Early hours will promote good appetites; plenty of
exercise, fresh air and good digestion will sweeten their tempers and
enliven their spirits; a clear conscience and a well-regulated mind will
bring them happiness in whatever circumstances they are placed. I am not
anxious for my girls to marry. I don't mean to play minor providence in
their lives, as some fathers do; but I would fit them for either
position, for the dignity of marriage or for the unselfish duties of the
single woman."

Dr. Lambert loved to moralize to his womankind; he had a way of standing
before the fire and haranguing his family--anything would serve as a
text for his discourse. Some of his daughters certainly thrived on his
homely prescriptions, but Hatty was the thorn in her father's side, the
object of his secret anxiety and most tender care--the sickly one of his
domestic flock. Hatty would never do him credit, he would say sadly; no
medical skill could put color into Hatty's pale cheeks, nor cure the
aches and pains and nervous fancies that harassed her youth. As Dr.
Lambert watched the languid step, or dissatisfied voice, he would sigh,
as though some thought oppressed him; but with all his gentleness--and
he was very gentle with Hatty--he never yielded, nor suffered any one
else to yield, to her wayward caprices.

"My dear," he would say, when Bessie pleaded for some little extra
indulgence for Hatty, "you must not think me hard if I say distinctly
'No' to your request. You may trust me; I know Hatty better than you do.
Very little would make her a confirmed invalid. It is not in our power,
not in the power of any man living," continued the doctor, with emotion,
"to give that poor child health; but we may help her a great deal by
teaching her self-control. Half her misery proceeds from her own nervous
fancies. If we can help her to overcome them, we shall do more for Hatty
than if we petted and waited on her." But Bessie had a