SYMPATHY FOR CHILDHOOD.
By Aunt Nannie
PLEASE allow me, fathers, mothers, and teachers, to plead for more sympathy for the dear children. Too often—it may be thoughtlessly or unconsciously—you are stunting or entirely uprooting the first tender shoots of infant thought and wonder, to which if the sunshine of your smiles and the dew of your gentle influence were applied, wonderful plants would grow, to gladden with their fragrance the inquiring minds of future seekers after knowledge. This world is so full of wonders to the little ones, and they are so sure papa or mamma or some one of the grown folks could tell them about everything, if they only would. O, what a heart-break it is to be told, "You ask too many questions, Johnnie," or "I have no time to talk to you now!" and very often Johnnie gets into some mischief, pulls something to pieces to know the why and the wherefore of it, and then gets punished, when the fault is not with him, but the one who had "no time" to satisfy the cravings of those God-given powers of mind which must find work somewhere. Who that has ever taught children does not know the wonderful effect of a word of praise given for work done, no matter how blunderingly, if it is the best they can do? What magic there is to the timid, frightened child, who is almost afraid to show his work to the teacher—drawing or writing, as the case may be—in the words, "Ah! I know you can make nice work as well as the others, if you only try." And the consequence is, he does try, and often succeeds beyond your most sanguine expectations. If you can do nothing more, give a smile to the little face that looks so pleadingly into yours, and it will be reflected to gladden your own heart and to drive away the vapors and clouds which surround and depress you.—Aunt Nannie.