and method, and the almost literal identity of some paragraphs to justify us in attributing them to the same source. There are two different aspects in which Mr. Wilkinson regards Swedenborg; first, as a philosopher of nature, and second, as a seer, theologian and philosopher of spirit, a division which is called for by the remarkable nature of the subject of this biography. We cannot imagine two more apparently different men than Swedenborg at the different periods of his existence. We are unable to conceive of efforts having apparently more various directions than Swedenborg's, in the different phases of his life; but still really through all, we see the working of that great law of unity for which he so scientifically and logically contended, and behold the same man pursuing steadily and steadfastly the same end, the paths only, by which he purposed to arrive at it, being different. The student who has acutely watched the way in which the mind acts, and the different steps by which it ascends or descends from a given position, easily recognises what we know as the law of cause and effect. Events which we are not able to predict become natural and accountable in their fulfilment. Changes are not sudden. They are always long preparing before the consummation arrives; the signs are afterwards seen to have been as plentiful as the falling leaves scattered by the autumn wind, to herald the near advent of the coming snows; and if we do not recognise them the fault is in our incapacity or want of observation, and not in the signs themselves. Swedenborg's life is a conspicuous example of this; his scientific works show progress from point to point upwards in a regular series of development, till it reaches its highest point, and there the scientific mingles almost naturally with the theological; and the causes seem so evident, that our physiologists would be at no loss to account in their own manner for the changes, which from that moment took place, and the effects which followed, without reference to supernatural intervention, or divine revelation. Instead of following closely the very able work of Mr. Wilkinson, or attempting to give a resumé of it, for it is so condensed that we could scarcely abridge it, and so connected that it would be difficult, and almost unjust to extract any of its elegant passages without their context; we shall endeavour to sketch shortly the life progress of the extraordinary man of whom it treats, and to blend the spirit of Mr. Wilkinson's text with such remarks as may occur to our comparatively unprepared and impartial mind. Swedenborg was the son of a high dignitary of the Swedish Lutheran church, and his connections were of the highest respectability, and had great influence. In his youthful days, his mind manifested a strong venerative and religious tendency, and the fervour of his prayers was so remarkable, that his parents were wont to say that angels spake through his mouth. He was evidently, even at this early period, inclined towards a habit of concentration and self abstraction; and the curiosity, so characteristic of children, took a theological turn, and vented itself in puzzling questions as to the abstract doctrines regarding the Divine nature. The father of Swedenborg, a good and wise man, appears to have left the mind of the child free from mere sectarian dogmas, but great care was bestowed upon his education, and at the age of twenty-two he attained high academical distinction, and took his degree as Doctor of Philosophy. The first bent of his mind, directed no doubt by his scholastic training, seems to have been towards literature, and he published some efforts which show deep thought and considerable powers of judgment and discrimination; and some poems are preserved which show intellectual power and patriotic heroism, rather than imagination or elegance. The mere literary era soon ceased, and Swedenborg appears then to have followed the impulse of his earnest practical mind, by attaching himself to the study of mechanics, and by the favour of Charles XII. of Sweden, he became at once the associate and the pupil of the Swedish Archimedes -Polheim, the engineer of that warlike monarch. While thus situated, Swedenborg by means of machines of his own invention, transported some large vessels fourteen miles over hill and valley, and by their aid Charles was enabled to bring his artillery under the very walls of Frederickshall. Charles designed that Swedenborg should have married one of the daughters of Polheim to whom he was attached, but that alliance was prevented by the lady having a more favoured lover, on the discovery of which, Swedenborg withdrew his pretensions. No doubt this disappointment had a great effect upon his future course-it deepened the tendency towards abstraction which we have before noticed, threw him back upon himself and helped to make him the solitary thinker and unwearied worker he afterwards became. After saying that Charles XII. conferred upon Swedenborg the office of Assessor to the Royal Metallic College, and ennobled him, we shall deal as little as may be with him as a private individual or a public official, and more as the man as he stands before the world. Shortly after attaining manhood, Swedenborg evinced a strong disposition to travel. His locomotion was almost incessant. His mind was as active as his body; for works of magnitude and deep research issued, in an almost unceasing series, from his pen. He visited repeatedly the various Continental States and England, printing and publishing his books in almost every country he visited. By a natural transition to a mind like his, after mechanics, mathematics engaged his attention, and he published treatises which are still esteemed worthy of his high scientific reputation. But his was not the mind to rest satisfied with the special or the abstract, and he plunged from terrestrial mechanics, and the forms and relations of bodies, to the mechanism of the Universe, where his large mind revelled in a boundless sphere at once of thought and fact, and spun a wondrous web of philosophy. The motion of the earth, the planets and the forces of the tides, and their antecedent actions and tendencies were the material upon which he exercised, on a larger stage, the mechanical and mathematical knowledge with which his brain was stored. Those subjects handled in a masterly manner, the restless spirit intent on exploring fresh fields, and wresting from nature new knowledge, turned again from generals to particulars, from the contemplation of planets to the consideration of atoms, and entered upon the study of chemistry and mineralogy, evolving till then unknown theories of form and development, and embodying all in a vast work of generalization, which almost exhausted the lower kingdoms of nature. On, still on, rushed the inquiring mind, from facts to principles, and from principles to newer facts; it bridged across the chasm between inanimate and animate nature; and we find Swedenborg entering with still youthful ardour upon the study of anatomy, upon which subject he soon gave in his works convincing proof of mastery. On again from facts to principles, from details to generalization, he advanced boldly to the contemplation of physiology, and ended his purely scientific career, by publishing researches upon the highest portion of creation-man, which may still be studied with advantage by the most eminent physiologists. What was the end and object of all this herculean labour? Was it a knowledge of the material universe, or a yearning after those mystic truths, which, like the dim fancies of summer shadows have haunted the mind of the great and wise in all ages of the world, which create an echo in the universal heart of humanity, and quickening the pulses of the sage and the boor, find expression in the popular superstitions of all countries and all times? It is impossible for those who have even a superficial acquaintance with Swedenborg's writings, to divest their minds of the impression, that even from the beginning of his scientific career, he proposed to himself the highest of all human aims; the com OH! LET US BE HAPPY. FOR MUSIC. OH! let us be happy when friends gather round us, That Truth and Devotion are blessings unknown, Has something unsound at the core of his own. Oh! let us be happy when moments of Pleasure Have brought to our presence the dearest and best, For the pulse ever beats to most heavenly measure When Love and Goodwill sweep the strings of the breast. Oh! let us be happy when moments of meeting Bring those to our side who illumine our eyes; And though Folly, perchance, shake a bell at the greeting, He is dullest of fools who for ever is wise. Let the laughter of Joy echo over our bosoms, As the hum of the bee o'er the Midsummer flowers, For the honey of Happiness comes from Love's blossoms, And is found in the hive of these exquisite hours. Then let us be happy when moments of pleasure Have brought to our presence the dearest and best, For the pulse ever beats to most heavenly measure When Love and Goodwill sweep the strings of the breast. Let us plead not a spirit too sad and too weary To yield the kind word and the mirth-lighted smile; The heart, like the tree, must be fearfully dreary Where the robin of Hope will not warble awhile. Let us say not in pride that we care not for others, And live in our Wealth, like the ox in his stall; "Tis the commerce of Love with our sisters and brothers Helps to pay our great debt to the Father of All. Then let us be happy when moments of pleasure Have brought to our presence the dearest and best, For the pulse ever beats with more neavenly measure When Love and Goodwill sweep the strings of our breast. ELIZA COOK. THE EDUCATION OF THE MOTHER ON THE CHILD. In education, science may do a little; classic erudition a good deal; moral philosophy much more; but religion most of all; and yet religion is icy or ferocious without a heart; and were we called upon to record our suffrages in support of any one of these several popular modes of education, we should, without the slightest hesitation, give our unqualified vote in favour of the heart. To you, O ye mothers! is confided the office of the heart-you, to whose eye we look up as it were to the heaven of our happiness and the haven of our hopes-you, in whose bosom we have nestled, and on whose lap we have reposed in infancy, and to whose sympathizing breast we have imparted the griefs or follies of our maturer years. Abandon not, we beseech you, O ye English mothers! the noblest functions of the state; dismiss not your darlings to the merciless schoolmaster, the mercenary tutor, and the dissolute usher, of whom you know nothing save his name and title; nor, for the sake of heading your table, or presiding with distinction in the silken drawing-room, leave the hungry innocent minds of your children to feed upon the depraved tuition of a housemaid, a servant girl, and that most invaluable of all earthly creatures, an exacting, flouncing head-nurse. Take the education of your children into your own hands, and abandon everything else for their sakes; it will amply repay you; and if you object that conduct such as this would break through the conventional modes of society, and be regarded as an act of folly, we can only reply by making an appeal to your heart.-From Dr. Forbes Winslow's Journal of Psychological Medicine. DIAMOND dust. THOSE are the best instructors that teach in their lives, and prove their words by their actions. MORE people have gone to the gibbet for want of early instruction, discipline, and correction, than from any incurable depravity of nature. AGESILAUS being asked-What he thought most proper for boys to learn? answered-What they ought to do when they come to be men. ANGER may glance into the breast of a wise man, but it rests only in the bosoms of fools. FEELING without judgment is a washy draught; but judgment untempered by feeling is too bitter and husky a morsel for human deglutition. HE who peeps through a hole may see what will vex him. NEITHER the evil nor the good that men do is ever interred with their bones, but lives after them. MEN of genius are often dull amidst common-place society, as the blazing meteor when it descends to earth is only a stone. PAINTING is silent poetry, and poetry a speaking picture. HAPPINESS is a bird that owns no cage but the bosom. WHAT a marked distinction there is between brutal courage and the intrepid conduct of principle; yet they are frequently confounded by the undiscerning, who set down blustering for bravery. DELAY loses the hour, and haste the power. CONVERSATION is the legs on which thought walks, and writing the wings by which it flies. MAN cannot be perfect even in guilt. Ir never was a wise thing yet to make men desperate, for one who hath no hope of good hath no fear of evil. Ir ever is, and ever should be, that what we love we believe in, and in general what we believe we love; and whatever we love and believe, while we cherish the imagination, it is ours. HE who defers his charities till his death is rather liberal of another man's goods than of his own. NATIONS in a state of war are like individuals in a state of intoxication; they frequently contract debts when drunk, which they are obliged to pay when sober. when the recipient magnifies the obligation, and the donor ceases to remember that he has bestowed a favor. BENEVOLENCE answers the end of its existence only HOPE is the most notorious bankrupt that ever figured in the transition of events; yet his credit is equally as firm as when he signed his first promissory note, or sounded in the ears of despairing Adam a note of happier days. Every moment in Time's chronicle is black with the record of his failures, yet mankind believe him. And why? Because the poetry of experience cannot be bequeathed. It is a commodity which time alone offers for sale. HE submits to be seen through a microscope who suffers himself to be caught in a passion. It is not from nature, but from education and habits, that our wants are chiefly derived. tation of as much importance as sporting on manors, and IF Parliament were to consider the sporting with repuwould thank them for the Bill. pass an Act for the preservation of fame, there are many Printed and Published for the Proprietor, by JoHN OWEN CLARKE, (of No. 9, Hemingford Terrace, East, in the Parish of St. Mary, Islington, in the County of Middlesex) at his Printing Office, No. 3, Raquet Court, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride, in the City of London, Saturday, February 16, 1850. A CLEAR night has followed a day of damp and fog, and is winter an essential part of the economy of creation, now "Fast falls the fleecy shower; the snowy flakes Descending, and with never-ceasing lapse, Softly alighting upon all below Assimilate all objects." The keen blast of the north wind shakes the naked branches "barren as lances" of "the spreading oak, the beech, and towering pine," and scatters their fleecy burden to the earth; while the snow-drift accumulates against every projecting object, and figures the walls and hedges with fantastic shapes. Passengers, with muffled faces, bow their heads to the wind as they hurry along; while the little birds, with half erected feathers, seek near the abodes of men the food that is denied to them elsewhere. "Beneath the sheltering hedge, Winter "reigns tremendous o'er the conquered year." As the broad flakes still whirl and eddy from the dark sky to the earth, and the doors and windows rattle with the force of the storm, an observer, who had been watching the scene, with that displacent expression of countenance which involuntarily marks the cynic, turned hastily away, and, retreating to the fire-side, muttered aloud," What is the use of Winter?" but that it is full of beauties, hidden and revealed, which will reward the investigation of every inquiring mind. One of the most delightful characteristics of the terrestrial orb on which our lot is cast is its never ending variety. Its mountains, its valleys, its woods, its ravines, and its plains, are as diversified as they are numerous. With no lack of order there is perfect variety; confusion and monotony are equally unknown. The animal world is as variegated as the vegetable, and the distinction between the individuals of a class is often as great as too the seasons change. The luxuriance of spring is that between the species and genera themselves. Thus gradually mellowed into the maturer beauties of summer, these are softened into the rich tints of autumn, and lost in the snows of winter. Yet to this season it may be truly said Unfortunately indeed, there are not a few in the world who from thoughtlessness, ignorance, or a lack of good temper, give expression to sentiments far from right either in fact or feeling. A notion crosses their minds, and it is unhesitatingly avowed, though an acquaintance with even some ordinary circumstances, or an opportunity of seeing a little into the philosophy of the object referred to, would have led to a different decision. Thus it is with the season of Winter. There are some who, denying the correctness of the remark of Cowper, that "the man who can derive no gratification from a view of nature, even under the disadvantage of her most ordinary dress, will have no eyes to admire her in any" would assume to be her votaries, and yet emphatically declare "Thou hast thy beauties, sterner ones I own Thou hast thy decorations too, although The hoar-frost now gives to the hedges a snowy foliage, and the trees "Glazed over, in the freezing ether shine." While the wandering birds, frightened at the rattling branches, scatter the frost around in snowy showers. Every vegetable substance, from the blades of grass that are drooping in the naked fields to the sere leaves and gnarled branches of the majestic oak, is clothed in a garniture of purest down, whose beauty surpasses the poet's dream, and is scarcely more substantial. "What can be more delicately beautiful," it has been truly asked, "than the spectacle, which sometimes salutes the eye at the breakfast-room window, occasioned by the hoar-frost dew? If a jeweller had come to dress every plant overnight to surprise an Eastern sultan, he could not produce anything like the 'pearly drops' or the 'silvery plumage.' An ordinary bed of greens, to those who are not at the mercy of their own vulgar associations, will sometimes look like crisp and corrugated emerald, powdered with diamonds." have yielded their rich stores; and the leaves, which fulfilled functions so important in these processes, being no longer useful, become "sere and yellow," and falling to the earth are incorporated with the parent soil, and aid to supply the exhaustion which their production has helped to occasion. The sap, which rose so profusely in the beginning of autumn to give maturity to the fruits, and crown the labours of the year, has performed its office, and is completing its periodical circulation by The vegetable creation has retained many features of loveliness apart from these decorations. The "naked majesty" of the oak, the gracefulness of "the cold-place loving birch," and the willow, whose pendent branches "trembling touch the water's brink," elicit the admiration of the observer; while, with the exception of the larch, the numerous species of fir and pine retain their leaves, and variegate the disrobed grove with their un-flowing back through the inner integuments of the bark. fading verdure. In the deil and woodland, the beautiful holly still gladdens the eye with its "hardy, fearless' leaves, and the silvery misletoe cheers the woods; while the laurel and bay in our shrubberies defy the blasts of winter, shelter and beautify our houses, and remind us of classic times when they enwreathed the head of the priestess of Delphi, or were hung about the gates of the Roman Emperors. The Christmas rose, seemingly the most delicate of its tribe, and looking among its dark shining leaves like a flower of snow, adorns the garden with its bloom, uninjured by the chilling influences of the season; the golden clusters of the winter aconite display their brilliant "buttercup-like flowers;" the bright pink, and deep blue blossoms of the hepatica already put forth their buds; the ever-welcome daisy that "never dies" is with us; the head-land is beautified by the flowers of the winter furze; and, before the severity of the season is over, the snow-drop as if "A little slender form Peeps from the crystal snows." "Flora's breath by some transforming power Its name and hue the scentless plant retains, Some of the feathered tribes are still with us. The robin with "his red stomacher," though silent during the frost, will have a merry song to greet us on a mild day. The thrush is already commencing his tune; the storm or missel thrush sings loudly from the misletoe; the voice of the wren is heard, and the lark is aloft making the air of heaven vocal with his melodious lay. The heavens present a glorious spectacle. The transparent purity of the frosty atmosphere gives an unusual expanse of vision, and an unwonted richness of colour to the high concave where the moon sails with more than queenly grace "Enthroned, amid the cloudless blue, Majestic, silent, and alone." But we pause: to enumerate the beauties which winter presents, would be to violate the law of brevity which our space imposes, and we proceed to remark, that this season is absolutely indispensable to the subsequent re-development of the beauties and fruits of other portions of the year. During its cold and apparently unemployed hours, operations, as varied as they are delicate, are secretly advancing. When the vegetable world began to assume the tints of autumn, the preparation for the wintry processes of the vegetable creation commenced. Were not the functions of the productive seasons to be suspended, and were summer to continue beyond the period within which it is now circumscribed, the grass would become withered, the flocks and herds would roam in unsuccessful search for food, the brooks would disappear, pestilential diseases would result from the putrefaction of animal and vegetable substances; and man himself, enervated and debilitated by excess of heat, would droop. But the same infinite benevolence that brought forth the promises of spring, and fulfilled the hopes of harvest, now gives to the world a discipline which prepares it to renew the beauties of the past, and make temporary evil the source of ever-rising good. Accordingly, the giants of the forest have stopped their growth; the fruit-bearing trees The leaf and flower-bud, destined to be developed in the 'Ere one flowery season fades and dies, Design the blooming wonders of the next." Before the earth is again prepared to teem with the produce of another year, it requires repose and moisture, and these are now furnished. Heavy clouds, surcharged with vapour, pour their copious supplies of water over the earth, and swelling the streams and rivers, cover the lowland fields and meadows. The arid ground is penetrated and softened, and the lowest roots are reached; while various materials on the surface rapidly decay, and are assimilated with the soil from which, in other forms, they were taken. Frosts exert a beneficial influence on the land, and prepare it for the spade and the plough; while snow preserves plants and seeds at a moderate and uniform temperature, supplies them with continual moisture, and retains vitality in many that would otherwise perish. There is a remarkable adjustment between the annual history of plants, and the character and duration of the seasons in which they flourish. The solar year and the vegetable cycle correspond exactly one with the other. Were one year for the future to be completed in six months, an utter derangement of the vegetable world would occur. tion of appropriate juices, the unfolding of leaves, the The processes of the rising sap, the formaopening of flowers, the fecundation of fruit, the ripening of seed, and its proper deposition for the reproduction of a new plant, are operations which require, in the present constitution of the vegetable kingdom, a period of twelve months, and could not be compressed into much less; while on the other hand, if the winter were much longer than it now is, many seeds would not germinate on the return of spring. The construction of the countless members of the vegetable creation has been brought into complete harmony with their conditions-to remodel the one would be entirely to disarrange, and ultimately to destroy the other. The strongest links which bind man in affectionate remembrance of the wintry season are the social and domestic feelings which are then especially cherished. This is emphatically the case with the inhabitants of our own country. "England," said Madame de Stael, "is the land where the human soul shines forth in all its beauty." To the Frenchman, who is never happy unless at his door-or out of it; to the Spaniard, who loves his noon siesta under olive shades, and the light bolero, and lively click of the castanet at evening, on the warm sun-burnt grass around his dwelling; to the Venetian islander with his wind-admitting lattices, and cold, damp, fireless halls, it may indeed be a "drerie season;" but to the Englishman, with his cheerful fire, his domestic and social enjoyment, his home-born happiness and consolations, it is a period than which none is more delightful. How many thousands think, with beating hearts and gladsome eyes, of the anticipated re-union with the members of their families around the domestic hearth at Christmas. When the casement rattles with the "driv ing snow-storm" which rages without, and the keen wind By whose bless'd use we lengthen life, and, free The student too feels a delight which none other can appreciate, when on a winter eve he retires to his library, closes his window-curtains, stirs his cheerful fire, lights his lamp, and bringing from his shelf some favourite classic, some author of "the olden time," or some equally interesting tome of modern date, he communes with the best spirits of the past, and stores his mind from their collections of wisdom, to which his own experience or taste may add point or beauty. Or it may be one of those periods on a winter's eve "When yet it is too soon to shut out day THE MUSIC IN THE SHADOW. A LITTLE MATTER OF MODERN PLATONICS. GODFREY ERNEST HEYWARD was, or is, for we have not, at any rate, observed his name in that grave third division of those newspaper statistics which share the attention of young ladies along with the prefatory advertisements; is one of those individuals, born to large possessions in Utopia, Cloudland, or Parnassus, which are, unfortunately, neither accessible by railways, nor included in the very boldest speculations of their constructors. His property, when entered upon, and even put in cultivation, did not accordingly bring him much of tangible profit, capable of being expounded to the world, or made an object to capitalists. A bill at three months thereupon, unless drawn by some responsible publisher, would not have been discounted at any interest by any known bank; the celebrated houses of Paradise, and of Fashion and Co., having long gone down before modern commercial revolutions. In other words, Heyward was a poet; which title, though meeting with much eulogy from the public, is too often used in joke, or as a reproach. So true is it, that "Finis coronat opus,"―the end crowns the work-the successful, especially when dead, are exalted often above their due height, and their productions at the same time lose much of their best rewardthat of present influence. Men look already for new ones, and complain that the age has no fresh poets; when, meanwhile, the young man aspiring, striving, studying alone, and uncheered, finds rather warning or scorn, than recognition from any one, of the noble aims he has at least in view. Thus, as Heyward, when a boy, had been called by his companions and older friends Play-in-earnest," a pun upon his name and juvenile manner, so the spirit of the appellation was just that in which obviously both his recreations and his graver pursuits were regarded. Friends or strangers, it was an understood thing with them that he lived to amuse himself, being nothing more than a refined sort of epicurean, so that it was fortunate he possessed some little means to do it upon, with the good sense, too, as a matter of economy, not to attempt it in the common way. But Heyward was, in fact, a poet, inasmuch as Nor are the pleasures of winter withheld from the passionate devotion to ideal beauty, and to the spirit of lower ranks of the social scale. Their hours of labour, Nature, constitute the temperament of that curious vocanow much limited by the shortness of daylight, their little tion; only in him these feelings became morbid from stores of winter money and provision may be enjoyed. want of a practical necessity to work. It was neither The family assemble round the fire, the youngest child from the love of self-indulgence in imaginative reveries, is perhaps seated on his father's knee, and the passer-by nor from contentedness, like some German at once dreammay hear the merry peal of laughter over the rustic but ing and matter-of-fact, to let the two worlds, real and ideal, wholesome fare. The wants of the poor are fewer and stand for ever separate; but experience had not yet taught more easily satisfied than those of others, and, if content-him the true desire and faculty of realizing perfection ment occupies their breasts, they have that which no money can ensure. Kirke White has said : " And thought, with the intrusive taper's ray." Cowper, whose muse delighted in domestic enjoyment and calm contemplation, has alluded to this hour, when the mind runs in "meditative mood," over past history, present affairs, or future prospects: or when in frivo lous, yet half-thoughtful" strain, the occasion is expended in the examination, amid the burning coals, of grim visages, grotesque forms, or "fancies of beauty and likenesses of things," of trees falling in flames, fiery volcanos, or blazing ships. The poet of the English fireside says, in reference to these musings: "Not undelightful is an hour to me So spent in parlour twilight; such a gloom "Go with the cotter to his winter fire, Where o'er the moors the loud blast whistles shrill, Let none then say that winter is deficient either in beauty or interest. The unceasing variety of naturethe remembrance that the fruits of the earth are gathered into the storehouse-the secret preparation for another year-the retrospect of the scenery on which the eye has dwelt with rapture, and which memory loves to reviewthe refined gratification of domestic and social intercourse, and the anticipation of the renovated glories of the coming year, are amply sufficient to fill the rightlytoned heart with gratitude, and to make it reciprocate the exclamation of Southey "I love thee, Winter! well. F. S. W. 66 in everything around him. Accordingly, all he wrote, almost, had a kind of vagueness and fanciful impracticability about it, that gave people in general the conviction of his being mad; in short, he could afford to write as he chose, and what critics said or readers did was a sign of the incompetency of the age, merely. A poet who has just enough to live upon is, in many cases, likely, from who without lowering his universal ideas, requires to suit that very cause, never to do anything great; while he, the form of them to the market of the time, is like Shakspere, perhaps, destined to give patterns to the future. For the origin of that excessive sensibility which is undoubtedly needful to cherish the "faculty divine," we would suggest, what we consider both a simple and a true of their mother-nature or mother-woman. Heyward was hypothesis: all poets have been spoiled children, whether the only son, with three sisters; the father, formal and severe; the mother, capricious, yielding, and so fond, at least of her boy, as never to deny him anything. At home he seldom came in rough contact with anything, |