A POETS CHILDREN.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XX, Issue V, 29 January 1898, Page 142

A POETS CHILDREN.

BY HIS DAUGHTER. The great poet Longfellow never endured any sarcastic word to a child, especially from a teacher, and considered it moat dangerous and blighting to any originality or imagination. Sympathy first, and then criticism when needed, but a criticism that cleared away difficulties and showed theright path, never a criticism that left merely discouragement and bewilderment liehmd.

To show how fully he undeistood the constant forbearance and encouragement needed by children, I will quote, in closing, from a little record lie kept of the early life of his own family. Speaking of some childish quarrel, he says : ‘ What was the matter, the cause of this despair ’ A trifle, a nothing. At last the little fellow said, amid sobs, “ I will be good. Help me to be good, papa!” Ah, yes : help him to be good ! That is what children most need. Not- so much chiding and lecturing ; but a little more sympathy, a little help to be good. You can see through their transparent faces the struggle that is going on within. A soft, gentle word often decides the victory! The children were reconciled in a few minutes. How quick it was all over—that great despair ! Ah me.’

A POET’S HOUSE. After his marriage, in 1843, Longfellowobtained possession of the whole house, gradually furnishing one room at a time. When the children were born, the sunny study upstairs was given up for a nursery, and the desk and books transferred to the room directly below, so that the familiar outlook might not be changed. The seclusion of the room upstairs was thus lost, and the children became double gainers, for the new study was mercilessly invaded by them at all hours, and everything about the room seemed to have "a special eharm, invested as it was with the atmosphere of repose, serenity and kindliness.

In a corner stood the old clock, its steady ticking a soothing accompaniment to many an hour of delightful reading or dreaming ; and over the fireplace an old-fashioned convex mirror reflected the room in miniature —an enchanting abode, with always the vague hope to a childish mind that some day one might find the way to enter in and take possession. In a drawer of one of the bookcases was a collection of little pictures drawn by my father in pencil, which he used with great facility, ‘The Wonderful Adventures of Mr Peter Piper.’ These were a constant source of delight, as new adventures would suddenly appear from time to time, and we never knew what the wonderful Peter Piper would do next He went travelling, with adventures in foreign lands ; he went hunting, and fell from his horse ; he went to sea, and was chased by a shark, and rode on a whale, and went down in a divino-bell, and all the possibilities of life were before him.

In another bookcase were delightful books of German songs with captivating pictures, and a tiny little book of negro melodies, and the marvellous Jim Crow. One drawer was especially dedicated to small cakes of chocolate for cases of extreme need, and rarely did the supply fail, although no other kind of sweetmeat was encouraged. One corner cf the study was usurped for marbles, as the pattern of the carpet seemed arranged on purpose for the game. How all this was endured is hard to understand, but I am sure it was not only patience that permitted these interruptions, but a true insight into, and sympathy with, all phases of children’s life."