"You say, Harry," interposed Mrs. Aikin, "that it is women's work to teach manners to the children; but, don't you think they learn them mostly from example?"
"Certainly I do; manners, as well as every thing else. Man is called an imitative animal. You can tell by the actions of a child a year old what sort of people it has lived with. If parents are civil and kind to one another,—if children never hear from them profane or coarse language, they will as naturally grow up well-behaved as that candle took the form of the mould it was run in."
"But," said Miner, who was willing to shift off the consequences, of some of his short-comings upon inevitable chances, "suppose you do set a bright example at home, you can't shut your children up there—they've got to go out, and go to school, and hear and see every thing under the sun."
"Yes, Mr. Miner," replied Susan Aikin, "but it's surprising, if they are taken care of at home, how little any thing out of doors seems to harm them."
"I tell you what, Miner," said Uncle Phil, glad of an opportunity to cut in, "what our folks call taking care is a pretty considerable chore—it's doing a little here, and doing a little there, and always doing."
"Wife!" called out Miner to his helpmate, who had just given her child a cuff for treading on her toe,—"wife, I depend on your remembering all
