. Whims and oddities : in prose and verse. ied, and appealing ever and anon by adramatic side look, to the circle of smirking auditors. W * * * * * was fond of this kind of display, eternallystirring up the child for exhibition with his troublesomelong pole,—besides lecturing him through the diurnalvacations so tediously, that the poor urchin was fain,—for the sake of a little play,—to get into school again. I hate all forcing-frames for the young intellect,—andthe Locke system, which after all is but a Canal systemfor raising the babe-mind to unnatural levels. I pity the MY SON, SIR. 63 poor
. Whims and oddities : in prose and verse. ied, and appealing ever and anon by adramatic side look, to the circle of smirking auditors. W * * * * * was fond of this kind of display, eternallystirring up the child for exhibition with his troublesomelong pole,—besides lecturing him through the diurnalvacations so tediously, that the poor urchin was fain,—for the sake of a little play,—to get into school again. I hate all forcing-frames for the young intellect,—andthe Locke system, which after all is but a Canal systemfor raising the babe-mind to unnatural levels. I pity the MY SON, SIR. 63 poor child, that is learned in alpha beta, but ignorant oftop and taw—and was never so maliciously gratified, aswhen, in spite of all his promptings and leading questions,I beheld W * * * * * reddening, even to the conscious tipsof his tingling ears, at the boys untimely could he not rest contented, when the poor imphad answered him already, What was a Roman Em-peror?—without requiring an interpretation of the Logos?. U MY SON, SIR. 64 AS JT FELL UPON A DAY. I wonder that W , the Ami des Enfans, has never written a sonnet, or ballad, on a girl that had brokenher pitcher. There are in the subject the poignant heartsanguish for sympathy and description;—and the brittle-ness of jars and joys, with the abrupt loss of the wateryfruits—(the pumpkins as it were) of her labours, for amoral. In such childish accidents there is a world ofwoe;—the fall of earthenware is to babes, as, to eldercontemplations, the Fall of Man. I have often tempted myself to indite a didactic ode tothat urchin in Hogarth, with the ruined pie-dish. Whata lusty agony is wringing him—so that all for pity hecould die;—and then, there is the instantaneous fallingon of the Beggar Girl, to lick up the fragments—expres-sively hinting how universally want and hunger are abound-ing in this miserable world,—and ready gaping at everyturn, for such windfalls and stray Godsends. But, har
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