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When my brother was eight years old, he was sent to a public school at Scorton, of which my father was one of the governors. There were many children there, whose parents were members of the Kirk of Scotland, one of whom, who came from Dumfries, happened to be my brother's bed-fellow. "I charge you," said my father to him, "if you ever hear any of your companions "laugh at little Wilson, for not saying the same prayers, or repeating the same catechism which you have been taught, that you do not join "them; Presbyterians, if they are virtuous and "pious, ought to be as much esteemed "if they where church people." I knew not what the term meant, but I set it down in my mind, that Presbyterians were not to be despised for being such; and afterwards, when I became able to generalize my ideas, I thence derived an important lesson of candour, respecting those who might differ from myself in religious opinions. This circumstance, together with the following conversation, which I happened to hear between my father and some other person, whom I do not recollect, when I was about eleven or twelve years of age, entirely settled my creed for many years, in respect of two material articles. "There can be no doubt," said my father, "that our "Saviour Christ, was that great personage who "existed with God before all ages, by whom he "made the worlds, and who repeatedly appeared "to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob." I instantly and eagerly imbibed this sentiment; this, I thought, is the very truth, I will trouble myself

no more about understanding the meaning of a Trinity in Unity, (about which my mind had really been perplexed,) and from that moment, without knowing the meaning of the word, I became what is called an high Arian.

It is very important in education to bear in mind, that whatever children hear incidentally from those whose opinion they respect, if it do not contradict what they themselves have felt or observed, is received by them as perfectly oracular.

CHAPTER 4.

Mischiefs from alarming the imagination of children....Unmixed, where the danger originates in fiction....Pernicious even when founded in truth....An instance of falsehood. ....How corrected and cured.

IN common with other children, I remember to have been told a number of idle stories, by different maid-servants, some of which, although of rather an immoral tendency, did no harm, because they were not thoroughly understood: those only were really mischievous, which too vividly impressed and painfully alarmed the imagination; such as the history of enchantments, giants, ghosts, and robbers; and these were always ushered in with a strict charge not to tell; "your "mamma will be so angry, I shall be turned

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away, and then you will never hear any more "nice stories." The promise was made and the secret kept, and the effects of the secret long re

tained; for being naturally of a timid dispo sition, it was some time before I could get the better of a certain indescribable horror at being left alone in the dark; and if my father and mother had not been perfectly free from any weaknesses of this sort, and I had not known assuredly that they were so, it is probable that I might never have got the better of it.

But it is not enough that the minds of children should be sedulously guarded from the fear of chimerical evils, care should be taken, that they be not too vividly impressed even by the apprehension of such as are real.

It happened one summer at Catterick, that there was a succession of mad dogs in the village; several persons were bitten, and one poor old man in particular, had his leg terribly torn; he came every day to my mother, who was the surgeon, as well as the apothecary of the whole village, to have his wound dressed, and I frequently stood by her, to observe the process. Our common sitting-room above stairs, looked into the church-yard; and one day as we were standing by the window, one of these animals, in the paroxysm of the disease, ran repeatedly and furiously round it. The alarm was sounded; my father expressed his thankfulness that he did not happen to be walking there, which was his ordinary custom, and admonished me to get out of the if I should ever meet a dog running at full speed. The caution was certainly necessary and proper; but whether the manner had been too impressive, or that the effect produced was

way,

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too strong, in consequence of the terrific histories recounted every day, of persons who had but just escaped, or who had actually been bitten, the result upon my mind was such, as to take from me entirely for many years, the pleasure of a walk into the country. The association with the church-yard in particular, was SO strong, that I never crossed it without terror ;— in the neighbouring fields and lanes, I was constantly in dread of meeting a mad dog; many a solitary walk did I decline on this account; and the probability is, that if I had actually met one, I should have lost all self-possession, and been wholly unable to escape the danger. I was conscious that this excess of fear was a weakness which ought to be conquered; but so vivid and overpowering had been the impression, that I was unable to do it, by any effort of my own resolution, and I was deterred from seeking counsel of those who might have strengthened my mind, by the fear of exposing my infirmity.

I shall mention another instance of undue fear, from which, in various ways, I suffered materially, some years afterwards, and which arose entirely from the effect produced upon my mind by exaggerated representation; for in this case, unlike the former, there was no real cause of apprehension, although the scene to which it referred was painful and distressing.

Being on a visit to a gentleman's family, in which one of the daughters was subject to epileptic fits, I heard the paroxysm repeatedly described by her sisters and others, in such terrific colours,

that one afternoon when she was actually attacked by the disease, as the family were at tea, no words can describe the terror by which I was overcome. It certainly was not in consequence of any thing I witnessed, for I flew away on the first alarm to call her maid and the probability is, so powerful was the panic which seized my imagination, that how much soever her safety might have required it, I could not have rendered her the least assistance. The remainder of my visit was wholly embittered by this misfortune. Conscious of my own weakness, and dreading lest she should have a return, I cautiously avoided being left with her alone; we had previously been very intimate, and this change in my manner, the cause of which I could not explain, she deeply resented, and never forgave. Her behaviour, whenever we afterwards met, was suspicious, cold, and reserved; and this continued till the time of her death, at the distance of more than twenty years after.

I do not recollect having ever been guilty of a direct falsehood, except once, when I was about seven or eight years of age. I was not allowed to play with the children of the village, or to pass the gates, by which it was separated from the yard and garden of the vicarage, without asking leave. Not having a sister or any playfellow, this restriction however expedient, was a great mortification, and I was tempted now and then to go by stealth beyond the boundary, in hopes that some little girl of the village might pass by, with whom I might in some way or other, amuse the passing hour. There was an old