are almost entirely ignorant of any manly games whatever. "But are not
these games very dangerous," asks a careful mamma; "don't you find that
boys get hurt very much by them? I have heard of some one who got his
teeth knocked down his throat by them. Somebody else got his head hurt
at shinney and so that was put a stop to, I believe, at Mr.----'s
school." Such mammas, doubtless, put into the hands of their children
some good little book, with a narration of this sort. Little Johnny was
told by his mamma not to climb trees. He was a good boy, and generally
obedient. But one day he was in the garden of one of his schoolfellows,
who asked him to climb a cherry tree; he forgot his mother's command,
and went up, but after he had climbed nearly to the top his foot
slipped, and down he tumbled through the branches on to the ground. He
cried very much, and could not move, so they had to put him upon a
shutter and carry him home. The doctor found that his leg was broken;
the pain was dreadful when he had it set, &c. &c.; the drama ending by
Johnny throwing his arms round his mother's neck, and declaring that if
he ever got well, he would never disobey his dear, dear mother any more!

The good people who write these edifying stories never seem to think
whether it was wise for mamma to forbid Johnny to climb a tree. Monkeys
are never forbidden to do so, and I seldom hear anything of their
falling off. Poor people's children climb trees, and there does not seem
to be an extraordinary increase of juvenile mortality on this account.
What should you say if some hard-hearted person, myself for instance,
were to say to the dear mother of little Johnny, "Dear Madam, you
yourself, I grieve to say, were the cause of Johnny's accident; you have
habitually prevented him from doing anything which would quicken his
perceptions and strengthen his limbs. He must not soil his pinafore, he
must not get his hands dirty, and above all he must not play at any
games which make his hair untidy, or tear his clothes. In fact, you have