Then follows a discussion of some minutes, in which Egbert, in a fretful
and teasing tone, persists in urging his desire to go a-fishing. He can
make the garden, he says, some other day. His mother finally yields, though
with great unwillingness, doing all she can to extract all graciousness and
sweetness from her consent, and to spoil the pleasure of the excursion to
the boy, by saying as he goes away, that she is sure he ought not to go,
and that she shall be uneasy about him all the time that he is gone.

Now it is plain that such management as this, though it takes ostensibly
the form of a plea on the part of the mother in favor of a sentiment of
gratitude in the heart of the boy, can have no effect in cherishing and
bringing forward into life any such sentiment, even if it should be already
existent there in a nascent state; but can only tend to make the object of
it more selfish and heartless than ever.

Thus the art of cultivating the sentiment of gratitude, as is the case in
all other departments of moral training, can not be taught by definite
lessons or learned by rote. It demands tact and skill, and, above all, an
honest and guileless sincerity. The mother must really look to, and aim
for the actual moral effect in the heart of the child, and not merely make
formal efforts ostensibly for this end, but really to accomplish some
temporary object of her own. Children easily see through all covert
intentions of any kind. They sometimes play the hypocrite themselves, but
they are always great detectors of hypocrisy in others.

But gentle and cautious efforts of the right kind--such as require no high
attainments on the part of the mother, but only the right spirit--will in
time work wonderful effects; and the mother who perseveres in them, and who
does not expect the fruits too soon, will watch with great interest for the