Many were the sensible lessons that the good man gave her, as leaning on
her strong arm he used to pace up and down the grassy slopes which
bordered the sea shore. "Look, Emilie," he would say, "look at that
governess marshalling her scholars out. Do they look happy? think you
that they obey that stern mistress out of _love_? Listen, she calls to
them to keep their ranks and not to talk so loud. What unhappy faces
among them! Emilie, my child, you may keep school some day; oh, take
care and gain the love of the young ones, I don't believe there is any
other successful government, so I have found it." "With me, ah yes,
papa!" "With you, my child, and with all my scholars; I had little
experience as a teacher, when first it pleased God to make me dependent
on my own exertions as such, but I found out the secret. Gain your
pupils' love, Emilie, and a silken thread will draw them; without that
love, cords will not drag, scourges will scarcely drive them."

Emilie found this advice of her father's rather hard to follow now and
then. Her first essay in teaching was in Mrs. Parker's family. Edith was
to "be finished." And now poor Emilie found that there was more to teach
Edith than German and French, and that there was more difficulty in
teaching her to keep her temper than her voice in tune. Edith was
affectionate, but self-willed and irritable. Her mamma's treatment had
not tended to improve her in this respect. Mrs. Parker had bad health,
and said she had bad spirits. She was a kind, generous, and affectionate
woman, but was always in trouble. In trouble with her chimneys because
they smoked; in trouble with her maids who did not obey her; and worst
of all in trouble with herself; for she had good sense and good
principle, but she had let her temper go too long undisciplined, and it
was apt to break forth sometimes against those she loved, and would
cause her many bitter tears and self-upbraidings.