“I do teach them to pray,” replied my aunt, “but only in the most simple manner, so that their little minds may accompany their words, and that they may not acquire an early habit of inattention, from repeating phrases which they do not comprehend.”
“You know, my dear Madam,” said my uncle, “that in education nothing should be done without object. Let us consider the object of teaching a young child to pray: is it not to give it an early feeling of devotion, and to implant the seed of what we hope will grow and ripen with the child’s increasing strength?”
“Oh! surely, that, you know, is what I mean,” said the lady.
“Therefore,” said my uncle, “I would endeavour to lead the little heart to rational prayer, and to real piety, by teaching it only what suits its comprehension, and never suffering it to repeat, by rote, what it cannot distinctly follow.”
“Then I suppose,” said she, “that you would not take children to church.”
“Certainly not, while their minds are still in an infantine state.”
“We have never taken any of our children to church,” said my aunt, “till they had obtained a certain portion of religious knowledge. The consequence has been what we expected; for I must say, that our children are not only remarkably attentive to the service of the church, but do, I believe, really join in it with their hearts.”
The lady appeared to be satisfied; and my uncle, turning to me, said, “Bertha, my dear, pray tell your mother what we have just been saying. Many years ago she convinced me of the justice of these ideas; your aunt and I have adopted them from her; and you will judge for yourself as to our success.”
I have written this conversation as well as I can remember it; and I may add, dear Mamma, that nothing can be more just than what is said of my cousins, for they are truly religious, but without any show or ostentation. Some day I will send you the nice simple prayers which have been composed for little Grace.
5th.—Besides the two species of the little bird that builds pendulous nests, which I have already mentioned in my journal, my aunt has just told me of another, the Sociable grossbeak. It is about the size of a bulfinch, brown and yellow, and is found in the interior country at the Cape of Good Hope. Its habits were thus described to my aunt:—