education, but mingled gentle nurture with "wholesome neglect." There
was nothing exotic or constrained in the growth of Eric's character. He
was not one of your angelically good children at all, and knew none of
the phrases of which infant prodigies are supposed to be so fond. He had
not been taught any distinction between "Sunday books" and "week-day"
books, but no book had been put in his way that was not healthy and
genuine in tone. He had not been told that he might use his Noah's ark
on Sunday, because it was "a Sunday plaything," while all other toys
were on that day forbidden. Of these things the Trevors thought little;
they only saw that no child could be happy in enforced idleness or
constrained employment; and so Eric grew up to love Sunday quite as well
as any other day in the week, though, unlike your angelic children, he
never professed to like it better. But to be truthful, to be honest, to
be kind, to be brave, these had been taught him, and he never _quite_
forgot the lesson; nor amid the sorrows of after life did he ever quite
lose the sense--learnt at dear quiet Fairholm--of a present loving God,
of a tender and long-suffering Father.

As yet he could be hardly said to know what school was. He had been sent
indeed to Mr. Lawley's grammar-school for the last half-year, and had
learned a few declensions in his Latin grammar. But as Mr. Lawley
allowed his upper class to hear the little boys their lessons, Eric had
managed to get on pretty much as he liked. Only _once_ in the entire
half-year had he said a lesson to the dreadful master himself, and of
course it was a ruinous failure, involving some tremendous pulls of
Eric's hair, and making him tremble like a leaf. Several things combined
to make Mr. Lawley dreadful to his imagination. Ever since he was quite
little, he remembered hearing the howls which proceeded from the "Latin
school" as he passed by, whilst some luckless youngster was getting
caned; and the reverend pedagogue was notoriously passionate. Then,