. The choice works of Thomas Hood, in prose and verse. n, and satisfied,and appealing ever and anon, by a dramatic side-look, to the circle ofsniiri-;ing auditors. W * * * was fond of this kind of display, eternally stirring up thechild for exhiliition with his troublesome long pole,—besides lecturinghim through the diurnal vacations so tediously, that the poor urchinwas fain,—for the sake of a little play,—to get into school again. I hate all forcing-frames for the young intellect,—and the Lockesy=^tem, which after all is but a Canal system for raising the babe-mind to unnatural levels. I pit
. The choice works of Thomas Hood, in prose and verse. n, and satisfied,and appealing ever and anon, by a dramatic side-look, to the circle ofsniiri-;ing auditors. W * * * was fond of this kind of display, eternally stirring up thechild for exhiliition with his troublesome long pole,—besides lecturinghim through the diurnal vacations so tediously, that the poor urchinwas fain,—for the sake of a little play,—to get into school again. I hate all forcing-frames for the young intellect,—and the Lockesy=^tem, which after all is but a Canal system for raising the babe-mind to unnatural levels. I pity the poor child that is learned inalpha beta, but ignorant of top and taw ; and was never so maliciouslygratified as when, in spite of all his promptings and leading questions,I beheld W * * * reddening, even to the conscious tips of his tinglingears, at the boys untimely inaptitude. Why could he not rest con-tented, when the poor imp h;id answered him already, What was aRoman Emperor?—without requiring an interpretation oi the Logos f 123. As it fell upon a day. AS IT FELL UPON A DAYP I WONDER that W , the Ami des Enfans, has never written asonnet, or ballad, on a girl that had broken her pitcher. Thereare in the subject the poignant hearts anguish for sympathy and de-scription ;—and the brittleness of and joys, with the abrupt lossof the watery fruits—{^\\tpumpkins ns it were)—of her labours, for amoral. In such childish accidents there is a world of woe ;—the fallof earthenware is to babes as, to elder contemplations, the Fall ofMan. I have often been tempted myself to indite a didactic ode to thaturchin in Hogarth with the ruined pie-dish. What a lusty anguish iswringing him—so that all for pity he could die;—and then th)W universally want and hunger are aboundingin this miserable world,—and ready gaping at every turn, for suchwindfalls and stray fiodsends. But, h,irk .—what a shrill, fe
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