Religion was deeply impressed upon her grateful heart; but it was simplified almost to unity, that it might be clearly understood.  It was conveyed to her through the glorious channel of nature, and God was loved and feared from the contemplation and admiration of His works.

Did Amber fix her eyes upon the distant ocean, or watch the rolling of the surf; did they wander over the verdant hills, or settle on the beetling cliff; did she raise her cherub-face to the heavens, and wonder at the studded firmament of stars, or the moon sailing in her cold beauty, or the sun blinding her in his warmth and splendour;—­she knew that it was God who made them all.  Did she ponder over the variety of the leaf; did she admire the painting of the flower, or watch the motions of the minute insect, which, but for her casual observation, might have lived and died unseen;—­she felt, she knew that all was made for man’s advantage or enjoyment, and that God was great and good.  Her orisons were short, but they were sincere; unlike the child who, night and morning, stammers through a “Belief” which it cannot comprehend, and whose ideas of religion are, from injudicious treatment, too soon connected with feelings of impatience and disgust.

Curiosity has been much abused.  From a habit we have contracted in this world of not calling things by their right names, it has been decried as a vice, whereas it ought to have been classed as a virtue.  Had Adam first discovered the forbidden fruit he would have tasted it, without, like Eve, requiring the suggestions of the devil to urge him on to disobedience.  But if by curiosity was occasioned the fall of man, it is the same passion by which he is spurred to rise again, and reappear only inferior to the Deity.  The curiosity of little minds may be impertinent; but the curiosity of great minds is the thirst for knowledge—­the daring of our immortal powers—­the enterprise of the soul, to raise itself again to its original high estate.  It was curiosity which stimulated the great Newton to search into the laws of heaven, and enabled his master-mind to translate the vast mysterious page of Nature, ever before our eyes since the creation of the world, but never, till he appeared, to be read by mortal man.  It is this passion which must be nurtured in our childhood, for upon its healthy growth and vigour depends the future expansion of the mind.

How little money need be expended to teach a child, and yet what a quantity of books we have to pay for!  Amber had hardly ever looked into a book, and yet she knew more, that is, had more general useful knowledge than others who were twice her age.  How small was Edward Forster’s little parlour—­how humble the furniture it contained!—­a carpet, a table, a few chairs, a small China vase, as an ornament, on the mantel-piece.  How few were the objects brought to Amber’s view in their small secluded home!  The plates and knives for dinner, a silver spoon or two, and their articles of wearing apparel.  Yet how endless, how inexhaustible was the amusement and instruction derived from these trifling sources!—­for these were Forster’s books.