paved streets of New York. Her mother had friends residing in one of
the up-river towns, owning a beautiful farm overlooking the Hudson,
and in early May she paid them a visit, taking her little daughter
with her. Mary, of course, was delighted. Like a bird freed from its
cage, she flew about here, there, everywhere, in-doors and out, among
the chickens and the pigs, the turkeys and the lambs, enjoying to the
full the thousand new things that her eyes rested upon all around her,
and her young spirits in wild commotion under the bracing influences
of the country air. "Mother! mother!" she exclaimed, as she came
dashing into the parlor, her beautiful curls floating wildly over her
shoulders, and her bright eyes wide open with wonder; "Mother I
mother! come out here, quick! and see this funny tree, all covered
over with snow-flakes, and how sweet it smells all around it." It was
a plum tree in full blossom. That little child had never seen the
beautiful spring blossoms on the fruit trees.

"I have no children of my own," remarked Smith, "and, therefore, may
not be regarded as the best authority in regard to the manner of
treating, or rearing children; but I have often wondered at the very
great mistakes people sometimes make in regard to them. There are
parents who mean no wrong, and yet who make no scruple of deceiving
them in reply to their simple questionings, forgetting, or regardless
of the fact, that a false answer to their innocent inquiries put in
good faith, and in the earnest pursuit of truth, may plant an error in
their minds, which may take years of experience, and often a painful
amount of ridicule to eradicate. I knew a little boy years ago, a
thoughtful, philosophic child, who speculated in his simplicity upon
what he saw, as great philosophers do, in their wisdom, upon the
various phenomena of Nature. His father, had a great barn, above
which, as was the fashion long ago, perched upon a staff, a few feet