Again, what more abominable tyranny than to force a child to eat turnip, or cabbage, or fat meat or anything else for which it has an unconquerable and unexplainable disgust? I have seen children actually shudder and turn pale at being obliged to swallow such things. Pray, why should not their wishes in this respect be regarded as much as those of their seniors? Not that a child should eat everything which it craves indiscriminately, but it should never, in my opinion, be forced to swallow what is unpalatable, except in the case of medicine, about which parents tell such fibs--that it "tastes good," and all that--when they should say honestly, "It is very bad indeed, but you know you _must_ take it, and the sooner it is over the better; now be brave and swallow it." I do protest too against forcing big boys to wear long curls down their backs after they are well into jackets, for the gratification of mamma's pride, who "can't bear to cut them off," not even though her boy skulks out of sight of every "fellow" he meets for fear of being called a "girl-boy;" or the practice making a boy of that age wear an apron, which the "fellows" are quite as apt to twit him about, or anything else which makes him look odd or ridiculous. There is no computing the suffering of children in these respects. I dare say many who read this will say, "But they should be taught not to mind such things," etc.; that's all very well to say, but suppose you try it yourself;--suppose you were compelled to walk into church on Sunday with a collar that covered your cheeks, and your great-grand-father's coat and vest on; to hear the suppressed titters, and be an object of remark every time you stirred; and you a man who hated notoriety, and felt like knocking everybody down who stared at you? How would that suit? Nothing like bringing a case home to yourself. Just sit down and recall your own childhood, and remember the big lumps in your little throat that seemed like to choke you, and the big tears of shame that came rolling down on your jacket, from some such cause, and don't go through the world striding with your grown-up boots on little children. They are not all angels, I know; some of them are malicious, and ugly, and selfish and disagreeable; and whose fault is it?--answer me that? Not one time in ten, the child's. You may be sure of it. God made it right, but there were bunglers who undertook a charge from which an angel might shrink.