DON'T.

Colonist, Volume XVI, Issue 1660, 15 August 1873, Page 5 (Supplement)

DON'T.

(From an American contemporary.)

" Mamma," said a bright-eyed restless boy who had just returned from a visit to his maternal grandma," your mother's a mighty hateful woman." " Oh, Frankie," expostulated the lady, "you mustn't speak that way of grandma!" " Well she is," continued the little fellow; " she wouldn't let me play horse round the chimney; she wouldn't let me make a train of cars out of the chairs; she wouldn't let me climb on the sofa and look at the engine; she wouldn't let me dig up the flower-bedi; ihe wouldn't let mo do

anything, and she's a mighty hateful woman." There isn't one of us housekeepers but can appreciate exactly the feelings of that grandmother. When the nice old lady got her room in order, how could she have the chairs turned upside down and shoved over the carpet, twisting the crumb-cloth, turning up the rug, knocking over small tables, crashing flower-pots, and playing the mischief generally. How could she endure a great, noisy boy rushing about her quiet rooms, raising dust : and riot, and filling her ears with thunderous din? As for having those grinding shoes on her nice sofa, 'twas not to be thought ofy neither could she have her choice flowers dug up by the roots; and what was the child to do? His active mind and restless limbs must prey on something, even on themselves when all else failed.

Probably there is not one of us parents aware how many times in the course of the day we say "don't!" Baby climbs upon the table before the looking-glass, and we rush to take him down, screaming "don't break the glass!" . Josie gets hold of the paste-pot and begins to paper the parlor walls with newspaper pictures, and we cry "don't!" Mary climbs up in the closet and gets our Sunday hat and comes trailing the long vail behind her over the floor*, and we expostulate "don't!" Its "Don'tput your elbows on the table!" " Don't put your hands in your pockets!" " Don't bring in such dirty feet on my nice carpet!" " Don't talk so much!" " Don't; make such a noise!" " Don't ask so many questions !"— to sum up all the don'ts in one, "don't be a child, don't be human, don't be or do anything!" A child will be a child; he will hanker for what he can't have—to look at yoar choicest books, to soil your finest carpets, to scratch your best furniture, to eat up the preserves and cake you have reserved for company, to break your best china, to wind the clock and turn the hands round on the dial plate, and break them off, too, just to see if he can. What ia one to do about it ? One is to have patience, to wait and let the child grow into wisdom and understanding, until he can of his own sense behave with propriety, and meantime provide avenues in which, without injury to himself or any one else, he can work off his surplus energy. There are a thousand w ; ays of doing this, and ifc is just as much a parent's duty to make provision for the mental growth and development of a child in the way of play as to see that he has food to eat and clothes to wear. And while we are ceaselessly to train him in right ways, it is well for us to remember that there are a great many ways that are right as well aa a great many that are wrong. The fact that any particular thing is distasteful to us does not make it wrong any more than the fact that it is agreeable makes it right; and toleration as to matters indifferent is appreciated even more highly by children than by grown people. We cannot choose but guard with the uttermost care all the approaches of vice, and this very anxiety is apt to make us object to modes of amusement and outlets of activity that are in themselves harmless. We need to keep our minds right alongside the minds of our children, to sympathise with them in their little woea, and rejoice in their juvenile triumphs. In this way we shall most effectually win their hearts and exercise a,controlling influence over their wills, not only when they are children, but when they grow to be men and women. Bad as it is to have a well-ordered room turned upside down, clean window-panes traced all over with dirty fingers, torn frocks, muddy Bhoes, dog-eared books, cracked china, and all the inevitables that attend a troop of healthy children, none of these, or all together, are as baneful as threadbare patience, sour temper, cross words, and angry looks.. The memory of a happy childhood, of hours passed in merry glee, of maternal accents over s6ft and loving, of parental indulgence fond yet judicious, of restraint wisely but kindly exercised, are among the treasures most dear to human hearts, which outrageous fortune can never take away.