There be many things that increase vanity.—ECCLES. vi, 11.

PERHAPS there is no point connected with the subject of education on which there exists such unity of sentiment as on that of the value of early impressions.

It is imputed to the priesthood of a religious system based on the knowledge of human nature, that their deliberate judgment has been thus expressed: "Give me a child until he is seven years old, and you may do what you like with him afterward."

And therefore, with laudable consistency, the training of infancy and childhood is the especial aim of the Church of Rome: twenty disciples from baptism to youth will do her more effectual service, and render more unquestioning obedience, than a hundred converts at maturer years.

Whatever the influence brought to bear, whether mental discipline, firm authority, impression of the imagination, even possibly winning affection, or all these combined, it cannot be contended that the opportunities afforded, under any circumstances, to the priest and his agents, are greater or more favorable than those naturally possessed by every mother in any degree worthy of the name. And if she be a Christian mother, enjoying access to the throne of grace, privileged to plead God's promises to faith and duty, her power is increased sevenfold, and her success all but secure.

A sensible and loving mother, uninfluenced by serious thoughts of her child's eternal interests, may train him for respectability and usefulness in life, and enjoy the reward of her care and skill; early impressions may tend to produce a frank, generous, kindly character that shall prove a comfort to her declining years: let not these consequences to society be undervalued, nor the good, so far as it goes, ignored.

It is true, on the other hand, that some, looking earnestly forward to divine interference, may err in their method of discharging duty; may too lightly estimate the importance of early training, or injudiciously attempt too much. They, too, may reap, but in disappointment and sorrow; and their ill management will draw rebuke upon right principles, while the real blame should rest rather on the indiscreet application, or the thoughtless neglect of them.

But while it is manifest that Christian parents are not all wise, nor worldly ones all foolish, there are precepts in God's word addressed to common sense, as well as enlightened faith, which prove the general principle of that close connection between means and results on which it is man's duty and wisdom to act. The characteristics of early childhood, as depicted there, and prove in daily experience true, are not flattering to human pride, and demand prompt and persevering care to "train" them, not in the course they would naturally run, but in "the way they 'should' go."

It is too palpable that, notwithstanding the general consent to that primary fact concerning early impressions, few take sufficient care watch and rule the practice with reference to it in little things. And things comparatively trifling to those who are said to have obtained "years of discretion," are often the precise instrumentality for fixing impressions on the unoccupied mind and impulsive heart of childhood, and may be found to have inseparable connection with traits to be desired or disapproved in after life.

Whenever Mrs. Fielding ventured to appear amid her little flock, her presence was usually hailed with a clamor of requests, wills, and entreaties, which had to be either rejected, and if possible silenced, or heard and granted. This often depended on the humor, the state of health, or degree of mental energy with which she faced the youthful tyrants. One time bland and condescending, she would grant favors to all; at another, irritated at some untoward occurrence, all were denied. And again, oppressed by a headache, the nursery was a kind of den into which it was a duty to peep, but from the inconsiderate occupants of which she was glad to escape, disregarding everything but her own convenience. Thus the children learned to conceive a sort of moral zodiac through the signs of which to trace their parent's humor, and by which to calculate the chances of success to their exactions.

But if a mother would command respect and retain affection, she must keep broadly defined the cardinal points of right and wrong, and permit no degrees of infirmity to indicate variation from the laws of equity and love. Caprice must be far from her; she must not hesitate concerning that which is wrong or unsuitable, nor suffer her children to associate their pleasures with her animal spirits, nor their disappointments with her disturbed temper.

But they should be taught how their obedience and attention may soothe her in sickness or sorrow; they should see how she can make the happiness of others take precedence of her own mere inclinations, and act with uniform kindness in forgetfulness of self. And they should feel that while meteoric flashes of indiscreet indulgence are unknown, how sweetly and lovingly she can make a necessary denial palatable, or enhance by sympathy the pleasure of acquiescence. If consistency of practice, and harmony of character, be worthy of cultivation at all, they are supremely so before the acuteness of childish observation, and the deep impressions of childish experience.

Scarcely any errand to the nursery was more agreeable to her maternal pride than that with which Mrs. Fielding hastened there one morning, with two beautiful little dresses in her hands.

"Look, Blanche! Look, Gerty!" she smilingly exclaimed. "How nice my darlings will look now! Come, nurse, put baby down for a minute, and try on these frocks. But how is this?" she continued, examining one of them more closely. "This is Gertrude's, and the other is not yours, Blanche, but your little brother's has been done first by mistake. Now that is provoking."

Blanche had rushed forward with her sister to admire the frocks. But on hearing the disappointing news, and seeing Gertrude speedily arrayed to admiration, she burst into a passion of tears, screamed for her frock, and snatched at the delicate muslin work with which her sister's dress was adorned.

Her mamma caught the furious little hand in time to prevent the purposed mischief. And finding her assurances that the other frock would arrive soon unavailing to appease the storm, she pushed Blanche angrily into an inner room, and proceeded to make her comments on the dressmaker's taste and skill, to all of which Gertrude listened with great attention, notwithstanding the kicks at the door, and the sobs which proceeded from the little prisoner.

"And shall I come down in this pretty frock to-day, mamma?" she eagerly asked. "But what must Blanche wear? She can't look as nice as I shall."

"Well, dear, I think if the other does not come, you must wait, and not wear yours to-day; your other frocks are quite nice yet, you know."

"O! No, mamma, I must wear this, it is so pretty; I like it so much. I may wear it, mayn't I, mamma? Yes, nurse, you will dress me in this new frock. And if Blanche doesn't like her old frock, she can stay in the nursery."

"Blanche has been so naughty about it that I almost think it will be a good punishment for her to come down in the old frock, nurse," said mamma. "But don't be vain and foolish, Gertrude; you may, perhaps, be naughty before dessert time, and then I shall not allow you to wear the new one."

"O no! I'll be good, that I will, for my dear pretty frock. And Georgy, shall he wear his too? O, don't touch it with your dirty fingers, Georgy."

"I don't like it, I don't," muttered Georgy, who perfectly hated to be what nurse called "dressed," because he had to sit on a high chair until the bell rang for the children to go down with his pretty kid slippers and ornamental socks on dangling legs that preferred a thousand times the old nursery slippers, and the pleasure of kicking at ease. Then that richly embroidered dress, with its elegant work and fine buttons, Georgy knew full well that it would be high treason in nurse's toilet code to put his offending hands anywhere but straight down by his sides, where it was utterly impossible for his strongest resolutions and best intentions to keep them.

Then again, he did not like strangers, and felt sheepish and silly (he could not tell why, but so it was) when the kind ladies stroked his hair, and pronounced his eyes like papa's, and his mouth like mamma's, and said he was a "fine boy." And all this had to be undergone before the only part of the performance began with which he had any sympathy, and for the sake of which he had struggled to keep awake.

But the dinner passed, and in due time, the children's bell rang. And nurse giving Georgy a jerk from his high chair, and smoothing all the little heads with a last touch, proceeded down stairs. Blanche hung back at first, while Gertrude looked behind with a half triumphant, half condescending air, saying, "Never mind, Blanche; I shall tell them your frock didn't come home."

"I don't care for the frock," pouted Blanche, "but they shouldn't have dared to do yours first, when I am Miss Fielding."

"Come along, Miss Fielding," said nurse, "and don't spoil your face with quarreling about what can't be helped. You look quite as nice as vain Miss Gerty there, for anything I see. Now, Georgy, walk properly, turn your toes out, else you'll spoil those pretty shoes. Dear me, what a clumsy boy you are!"

The well-meant lecture terminated at the foot of the stairs, and the moment after, four beautifully dressed children stood like a bright little show in the blazing light of their papa's dining-room, where their kind friends were ready to welcome them with the usual caresses, and a liberal supply of "something nice," to indemnify them for all the annoyances of the initiatory ordeal.

Perhaps it would be neither agreeable nor kind to criticise too closely the sort of conversation frequent on such occasions in any society, but it may generally be remarked that it is such as the children can comprehend, and by which the parents may be gratified. And it is not going too far to say, that even truth may take the mischievous form of flattery, and good sense should dictate preferable silence. Mrs. Fielding's children were remarkably fine looking, and there is no harm in feeling attractiveness of beauty, but it was most unhealthy and disadvantageous for them to hear the fact discussed, and to feel the importance with which it seemed to invest them amid their injudicious admirers.

Without being too severe upon sociable silliness, an illustration similar to what frequently occurs may be permitted: the impression on children may be easily imagined.

"What lovely hair you have!" said a lady, turning a finger through one of Gertrude's ringlets. "It is a perfect picture, Mrs. Fielding. Have you had this dear child's likeness taken? Indeed, they would make a sweet group altogether. I saw a family picture the other day, but of mere ordinary children, and yet it was very interesting. Now yours would be quite a study, and establish the artist's fame. Pray do think of it."

"Blanche, do you know how much you are growing like dear mamma?" said a lady at whose side the child stood. "And I am quite sure you are a good little girl. Tell me how it is that you are not all dressed alike to-day."

"My frock didn't come home," murmured Blanche, in a little voice from between a French plum and a piece of orange.

"I thought so; for, to tell you a little secret, I heard a message about it as I came in this evening. You are very good not to be jealous of your sister."

"What is jealous?" said Blanche, gulping down the plum, and looking up in the lady's face for an explanation of the amount of her "goodness."

"You dear innocent little thing!" exclaimed the unwise lady. "My dear Mrs. Fielding, I congratulate you. Your sweet child here does not know what jealousy means, and I shall not certainly be the first to enlighten her—'where ignorance is bliss.' Ah, how happy you are to be able to keep your children from contamination in this way."

Mrs. Fielding felt a little awkward, but how could she expose her children's faults? And poor Blanche was doubtless sufficiently punished by being presented in the old frock.

"I say, Fielding," exclaimed a gentleman, "this young rogue knows what is good."

"O, pray do not let him have it," cried Mrs. Fielding, as she saw George swallowing the contents of a wine-glass with great energy.

"It will not hurt him for once," replied the guest, laughing; "he will be a lad of spirit, depend upon it. Well, sir, what next?" he asked, as the boy put down the glass, in no wise discomposed by the length or the strength of his draught.

Alas! It was not a first time; it was not "for once;" and George had already his favorite wine as decidedly as his father or any of the visitors present. The little girls also sipped from their friends' glasses, and knew quite well those who were most liberal in the bestowal of their favors.

The children accompanied the ladies to the drawing-room, where, in a few moments, ottomans, cushions, picture books, and all available fancy articles within reach, seemed to partake of the excitement of the young tumblers; and nurse was speedily summoned to remove them from the scene, as the only means of delivering the persecuted company from the strife of their indefatigable tongues.

But nurse, with baby in her arms, was seated by the kitchen fire, regaling on the delicacies which cook, in token of her kind regard, had set aside for her enjoyment, and of which the children's absence afforded her time to partake in perfection.

Poor baby cried a little, and nodded a little, and was pronounced "the tiresomest baby that ever was," because he sputtered over his clean little night-dress the mouthful of some uncongenial mess to which he had been treated with a taste.

"There now! I must change his gown, the naughty thing! else his mamma will find it out at bedtime. It's of no use to get him to sleep till the others are gone, for they always come up with such a noise, enough to wake the dead, when they've been with company, having wine and things. Not that I've anything to say against dinner parties, thanks to you, cook; only it's quite time those young ones were asleep."

"I say, nurse," said cook, looking at the baby, "I hope that blancmange won't make him sick; he looks pale and queer. Do take him upstairs out of this hot place. I'll save you a nice bit for supper, never fear. Dear, dear! It's a terrible weight off one's mind when the dinner's done and no fault found; but there's lots of things never been touched that I spent deal of trouble on. But missus will have the best, and plenty of it; and she's in the right not to be outdone by anybody, I say."

Here the children's bell terminated the gossip; so baby was put into his cot with something sweet in his mouth to insure his complacency, while nurse ran down to receive her uproarious charge, whom by dint of scolding and coaxing she at last lodged safely in their beds.

Such scenes are among the commonplace circumstances of society, and probably never recur to the minds of those heedlessly engaged in assisting their mischievous influence. But nevertheless injury is done, and antagonism is strengthened against the inconsistent attempts which the same persons will make to teach great principles by rote and intellectual routine. They may be trifling in themselves, and seem too light to be named as pernicious to youthful character, but they make impression on susceptible material, and belong more emphatically to "education" than all the lectures and precepts on the moral qualities that ever were penned or propounded by instructors of youth.