at which the lad hoped to be allowed to go and visit his parents, he ventured, after much hesitation, to hint this to his uncle.  Of course the uncle felt that it was quite right the lad should go, but he grudged him the chance of the little enjoyment, and the happy thought struck him that he might let the lad go, and at the same time make the poor fellow uncomfortable in going.  Accordingly he conveyed his permission to the lad to go by roaring out in a savage manner, “Begone!” This made the poor lad feel as if it were his duty to stay, and as if it were very wicked in him to wish to go; and though he ultimately went, he enjoyed his visit with only half a heart.  There are parents and guardians who take great pains to make their children think themselves very bad,—­to make the little things grow up in the endurance of the pangs of a bad conscience.  For conscience, in children, is a quite artificial thing:  you may dictate to it what it is to say.  And parents, often injudicious, sometimes malignant, not seldom apply hard names to their children, which sink down into the little heart and memory far more deeply than they think.  If a child cannot eat fat, you may instil into him that it is because he is so wicked; and he will believe you for a while.  A favorite weapon in the hands of some parents, who have devoted themselves diligently to making their children miserable, is to frequently predict to the children the remorse which they (the children) will feel after they (the parents) are dead.  In such cases, it would be difficult to specify the precise things which the children are to feel remorseful about.  It must just be, generally, because they were so wicked, and because they did not sufficiently believe the infallibility and impeccability of their ancestors.  I am reminded of the woman mentioned by Sam Weller, whose husband disappeared.  The woman had been a fearful termagant; the husband, a very inoffensive man.  After his disappearance, the woman issued an advertisement, assuring him, that, if he returned, he would be fully forgiven; which, as Mr. Weller justly remarked, was very generous, seeing he had never done anything at all.

Yes, the conscience of children is an artificial and a sensitive thing.  The other day, a friend of mine, who is one of the kindest of parents and the most amiable of men, told me what happened in his house on a certain Fast-day.  A Scotch Fast-day, you may remember, is the institution which so completely puzzled Mr. Buckle.  That historian fancied that to fast means in Scotland to abstain from food.  Had Mr. Buckle known anything whatever about Scotland, he would have known that a Scotch Fast-day means a week-day on which people go to church, but on which (especially in the dwellings of the clergy) there is a better dinner than usual.  I never knew man or woman in all my life who on a Fast-day refrained from eating.  And quite right, too.  The growth of common sense has gradually abolished literal fasting.