But in this mode of teaching, it is essentially necessary that a mother should herself be an example of the truth she teaches.  It will be worse than useless to teach a child that God is always at hand, ‘and spieth out all our ways,’ if she act as though she did not believe in the existence of a Deity.

In the same way will it hold good of every requirement.  It will be vain to teach a child that lying is a great crime in God’s sight, when a mother in her own words shows no regard to truth; and equally so of all other passions and feelings.  It is idle to teach a child that pride—­hatred—­revenge—­anger, are unholy passions, if a mother’s own conduct displays either of them.  How useless is it to teach that vanity should never be indulged in, when a mother delights in display!  Such instruction as this is like the web of Penelope—­unpicked as fast as done.  The greatest reverence is due to a child; and previously to becoming a teacher, a mother should learn this hardest of all lessons—­’Know thyself.’  Without this, the instruction she gives her children will at best prove very imperfect.  It is quite useless to teach children to reverence any thing, when a mother’s conduct shows that, practically at least, she has no belief in the truths she inculcates.  And a very hard requirement this is:  but it is a requirement absolutely necessary, if education is meant to be any thing more than nominal.  The finest lesson on the beauty of truth is enforced by a mother never herself saying what is false; for children pay great regard to consistency, and very soon detect any discrepancies between that which is taught and that which is practised.

The best method of inculcating truth on the minds of children is by analogy and illustration.  They cannot follow an argument, though they readily understand a comparison:  and, by a judicious arrangement, every thing, either animate or inanimate, might be made to become a teacher.  What lesson on industry would be so likely to be instructive as that gathered from a bee-hive?  The longest dissertation on the evils of idleness and the advantages of industry would not prove half so beneficial as directing the observation to the movements of the bee—­that ever-active insect, which, without the aid of reason, exercises prudence and foresight, and provides against the wants of winter.  A child will readily understand such instruction as this, and will blush to be found spending precious hours in idleness.  And in the same way with other duties, whether to God or mankind, the fowls of the air and the flowers of the field might be made profitable teachers, and the child would, wherever he went, be (sic) surronded with instruction.

This mode of teaching has this special recommendation—­it raises up no evil passions:  and a child which would display an evil temper by being reproved in words, will feel no such rancor at a lesson being inculcated in a way like this.

This instruction will also be much longer remembered than one delivered in words, forasmuch as the object upon which the instruction is based would be continually presented to the eye.