This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
96
THE MOTHERS OF ENGLAND.

means, a little more tact on the part of mothers, sisters, and mistresses of families, a little more taste—in short, a little more of the true poetry of life, so that the general tone of the mind, even in its joyous moments, shall be in strict harmony with good feeling.

Were this the case, I believe we should all live in less fear of youth overleaping the accustomed barrier of good manners, so as to run riot in its excess of merriment; and while by the same means we should learn to suffer less from the dread of being ridiculous, we should be more generally cheerful, and, upon the whole, more happy than we are.

And to whom are we to look for improving at once the manners and the morals of social life in this most delicate point, but to the mothers of England? Servants and nurses, in whose company so many children are allowed to play without restraint, and in no other; they are not fit for such a task. Fathers are seldom present, and when they are, they want the nicety and the tact to manage the minute affairs of domestic life, and especially those of individual feeling. It is to mothers then, alone, that we can look for the improvement so much needed here; ad with all woman's taste and tact, her quickness of feeling, play of fancy, minuteness of observation, and facility of adaptation to circumstances; with all a mother's love in addition to these, she wants only a higher sense of a mother's duty to convince her that the joyous moments—the holy days of mirth which her children are permitted to enjoy, are those which she, above all other human beings, has the privilege of sharing, and, at the same time, of converting into lasting good.

There is no reason why children should be either selfish or vulgar in their mirth; yet how many do we find who can be well-behaved in what is called company, and yet when let loose to play, are a disgrace to their parents; who, perhaps, from never associating themselves with their children's merriment, but having been accustomed to send them always into the nursery to play, and into the company of servants to run wild, having imposed upon them a sort of artificial restraint, which makes them decent and tolerable only while it lasts, but leaves them, whenever it