"Oh! mamma, as if one was afraid of nothing but what does harm. When we are in the country, and the wind whistles through the corridors of the château, when I hear it moan in the night through the crevices of the door or of the window, I know that it can do me no harm, and yet I am so frightened, that I cover my head with the sheet, and pull the clothes as tightly round me, as if I had to protect myself from some great danger. When it thunders, I am quite aware that the peal which we hear, can do no harm, since this noise is only the echo of the sound, which has already passed, and yet you know, mamma, that at those two terrific claps of thunder which we had last year in the country, if you had not absolutely forbidden me, I could not have helped running about and screaming, as people do when they are very much afraid."

"And, when I forbade you, that prevented you from doing so; I am sure that if I were to forbid your rolling yourself up in your sheets, when you hear the wind whistle, it would prevent you from doing that also?"

"Oh! yes, certainly, mamma."

"Very well, then I forbid your doing so. Do you consider that that will prevent you from being afraid?"

Clementia reflected a moment, and then told her mother that she did not suppose it would.

"What do you think about," asked her mother, "when the wind whistles, and you roll yourself up in your sheets?"

"I do not think about anything, mamma, I assure you; I am afraid, that is all."

"And when you hear it without tightening your sheets, since I have forbidden you to do so, what will you think about then?"

"I shall think, mamma, of what you have forbidden me," said Clementia. Then, after a moment's reflection, she added, "I think, perhaps, that this idea might prevent me from being afraid; for I remember, when it thundered so loudly last year, that at the second peal I thought of your having forbidden me to cry out at the first; I thought of restraining myself, and consequently thought less of being afraid."

"This is what always happens, my child. The best means of overcoming fear, is to think of something which may divert our thoughts from it. Those who are afraid of mice, are quite capable of being afraid of chimney-sweeps, if, when one made his appearance, they did not think he came to sweep the chimney, and that it is desirable that chimneys should be swept, in order to prevent their catching fire; in fact, if they did not think of many things which prevent them from dwelling upon the impression which his disagreeable appearance might make upon them. If mice were as useful to every one as sweeps are, no one would be afraid of them."