accomplishments, so called, which are expected to be known by our
governesses."

But, supposing a mother succeeds in keeping her child alive and well,
what knowledge does she desire next? She desires to know next how to
guide it, influence it, mould its character. She does all these,
whether she tries to or not, whether she knows it or not, whether she
wishes to or not. Says Horace Mann, "It ought to be understood and
felt, that in regard to children all precept and example, all kindness
and harshness, all rebuke and commendation, all forms, indeed, of
direct or indirect education, affect mental growth, just as dew, and
sun, and shower, or untimely frost, affect vegetable growth. Their
influences are integrated and made one with the soul. They enter into
spiritual combination with it, never afterward to be wholly
decompounded. They are like the daily food eaten by wild game, so
pungent in its nature that it flavors every fibre of their flesh, and
colors every bone in their bodies. Indeed, so pervading and enduring
is the effect of education upon the youthful soul, that it may well be
compared to a certain species of writing ink, whose color at first is
scarcely perceptible, but which penetrates deeper and grows blacker by
age, until, if you consume the scroll over a coal-fire, the character
will still be legible in the cinders."

In regard to inherited bad traits, the question arises, if even these
may not be changed for the better by skilful treatment given at a
sufficiently early period. Children inheriting diseased bodies are
sometimes so reared as to become healthy men and women. To do this
requires watchfulness and wise management. How do we know that by
watchfulness and wise management children born with inherited bad
traits may not be trained to become good men and women? But the