Knowledge again may be acquired in the course of amusements, and of such as may be resorted to within doors.  Now of these again there are two kinds, the innocent and the corruptive.  By the premises I am to be concerned with the first only.  If then I accustom my child to mathematical and philosophical pursuits, if I incite him to experiments in these, if I assist him in measuring the motions of the heavenly bodies, and in discovering the wisdom and power of Omnipotence as displayed in these, if I occasion him to be interested in, the contemplation of such subjects, what have I done for my child?  Have I not called out his intellectual faculties?  Have I not laid in him the foundation of a serious and a thoughtful mind?  Have I not accustomed him to solid things, in opposition to those that are light, and to sublime things, in opposition to those that are frivolous?  Have I not inculcated in him a love for science?  But take my child, after he has been accustomed to such thoughts and such subjects, to the theatre.  Let the pantomime display its various attracting scenes to his view.  And will he not think his entertainment low and superficial, in comparison of that which he left at home.

Knowledge again may be acquired by amusements which are out of doors.  These again may be innocent or exceptionable.  As before, I have nothing to do but with the former.  If then I accustom my child to range the fields, as an employment promotive of his health, and connect this healthy exercise with the entertainment of botanical pursuits, do I not, in examining with him the shape, the colour, and the mechanism of plants and flowers, confirm in him his former love of the works of nature?  Do I not confirm his former notion of the wisdom and power of omnipotence?  Do I not teach him by these, and the other pursuits which have been mentioned, that all recreations should be innocent, and that time should be wisely employed?  But hark! another amusement, and one of those which are followed out of doors, is at hand.  The hounds are in view, and fast approaching.  My son is accidentally solicited to join them.  He would ask my permission, but I am absent.  At length he goes.  He follows them in wild tumult and uproar for an hour.  He sees some galloping over hedges and ditches like madmen, and hazarding their persons in a presumptuous manner.  He sees others ride over the cultivated fields of their neighbours, and injure the rising corn.  He finds that all this noise and tumult, all this danger and injury, are occasioned by the pursuit of a little hare, whose pain is in proportion to the joy of those who follow it.  Now can this diversion, educated as my child has been, fascinate him?  Will he not question its innocence?  And will he not question its consistency as a natural pursuit, or as an employment for his time?