ould have called mine.
I loved him more than any child I ever knew, as he was of nature more fair and noble.
You would be surprised to know how dear he was to my imagination.
I saw him but little, and it was well; for it is unwise to bind the heart where there is no claim.
But it is all gone, and is another of the lessons brought by each year, that we are to expect suggestions only, and not fulfilments, from each form of beauty, and to regard them merely as Angels of The Beauty.
June, 1842.—Why must children be with perfect people, any more than people wait to be perfect to be friends?
The secret is,—is it not?—for parents to feel and be willing their children should know that they are but little older than themselves; only a class above, and able to give them some help in learning their lesson.
Then parent and child keep growing together, in the same house.
Let them blunder as we blundered.
God is patient for us; why should not we be for them?
Aspiration teaches always<