the way which was his sign of distress, gave
that most pathetic sort of sigh,—that drawn-
in, instead of breathed-out sigh, which is so
common among his class, and searched
everywhere for the card. When obliged to give
the matter up, he mournfully drew out the
ten of clubs, and made that do instead. We
could hold out no longer, and gave him his
card: and he seized upon it as eagerly as
any digger on any nugget, and chucked and
chuckled, and wagged his head, and was
perfectly happy. We once poured some
comfits into his hand. They happened to be
seven. At the same moment every day after,
he would hold out his hand, as if by mechanism,
while his head was turned another way.
We poured six comfits into his palm. Still
he did not look, but would not eat them, and
was restless till we gave him one more. Next
day, we gave him nine; and he would not
touch them till he had thrust back two
upon us.

In all matters of number, quantity, order
and punctuality, Harry must be humoured.
It is a harmless peculiarity, and there will be
no peace if he is crossed. If he insists upon
laying his little brother's tricks only in rows,
or only in diamonds or squares, he must be
coaxed into another room, unless the little
brother be capable of the self-denial of giving
up the point and taking to some other play.
It is often a hard matter enough for the
parents to do justice among the little ones:
but we can testify because we have seen
what wonders of magnanimity may be
wrought among little children, servants and
every body, by fine sense, and sweet and
cheerful patience on the part of the governing
powers of the household. They may
have sudden occasion for patience on their
own account too. Perhaps the father comes
home very tired, needing his coffee. His
coffee is made and ready. So they think:
but lo! poor Harry, who has an irresistible
propensity to pour into each other all things
that can be poured, has turned the coffee
into the brine that the hams have just come
out of; and then the brine and the coffee and
the cream all back again into the coffee-pot,
and so on. Such things, happening every
day, make a vast difference in the ease,
cheerfulness and economy of a household. They
are, in truth, a most serious and unintermitting
trial. They make the discipline of
the household: and they indicate what must
be the blessing of such institutions for the
care and training of idiots as were celebrated
in the paper we have referred to.

As for the discipline of Harry himself, it
must be discipline; for every consideration
of humanity, and, of course, of parental affection,
points out the sin of spoiling him. To
humour, in the sense of spoiling, an idiot, is
to level him with the brutes at once. One
might as well do with him what used to be
done with such beings,—consign him to the
stye, to sleep with the pigs, or chain him up
like the dog, as indulge the animal part of a
being who does not possess the faculties that
counteract animality in other people. Most
idiots have a remarkable tendency to imitation:
and this is an admirable means of
domestic training,—for both the defective
child and the rest. The youngest will smother
its sobs at the soap in its eye, if appealed to, to
let poor Harry see how cheerfully everybody
ought to be washed every morning. The
youngest will take the hint not to ask for
more pudding, because Harry must take what
is given him, and not see anybody cry for
more. Crying is conquered—self-conquered
throughout—the house, because Harry imitates
everything; and it would be very sad if
he got a habit of crying, because he could not
be comforted like other people. As the other
children learn self-conquest from motive, in
this way Harry will be learning it from
imitation. He will insist upon being properly
washed and combed, and upon having no
more than his plateful—or his two platesful—
at dinner: and so on. The difficult thing to
manage at home is the occupation: and this
is where lies the great superiority of schools
or asylums for his class. His father may
perhaps get him taught basket-making, or
spinning with a wheel, or cabinet-making, in
a purely mechanical way; but this is less
easily done at home than in a school. Done
it must be, in the one place or the other,
if the sufferer and his companions in life
are to have any justice, and any domestic
leisure and comfort. The strong faculty of
imitation usually existing among the class,
seems (as we said just now, in reference to the
faculties of idiots in general,) a sort of miracle
before the nature of the brain-organisation
was truly conceived of. How many elderly
people now remember how aghast they were,
as children, at the story of the idiot youth, not
being able to do without the mother, who had
never left him while she lived: and how,
when everybody supposed him asleep, and
the neighbours were themselves asleep, he
went out and got the body, and set it up in
the fireside chair, and made a roaring fire,
and heated some broth, and was found, restlessly
moaning with distress, while trying to
feed the corpse. And that other story,—a
counterpart to which we know of our own
knowledge,—of the idiot boy who had lived
close under a church steeple, and had always
struck the hours with the clock; and who,
when removed into the country, far away
from church, clock, and watch, still went on
striking the hours, and quite correctly, without
any visible means of knowing the time.
What could we, in childhood, and the rest of
the world in the ignorance of that day, make
of such facts, but that they must be miraculous?
The most marvellous, to our mind, is
a trait which, again, we know of our own
knowledge. An idiot, who died many years
ago at the age of thirty, lost his mother when
he was under two years old. His idiotcy had