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its heart would break. He asks the cause. The answer, sobbed forth, is that some toy has been lost or destroyed; or that some other like mishap has befallen the little weeper. The Teacher looks at the matter as so trifling a misfortune usually appears to an adult person; and if he does not sternly cry out, "shut up, and stop your noise! Do not be such a little fool as to cry for nothing!" he turns coldly away, with no word or look of kindness. Such a Teacher would be in business far more suited to his nature, if associated with the "Border Ruffians" on the Missouri, or the Center Ruffians on the Potomac.

We must remember that troubles and afflictions are great or small just in proportion to the power of their subjects to endure them. A person of strong and mature intellect, of large experience in the vicissitudes and adverse events of life, can with composure meet and bear disappointments and afflictions such as would crush and overwhelm one of weaker mind, of more limited experience. To the frail judgment, and to the inexperience of little children, troubles, such as we should scarcely notice, become formidable and overpowering. To us they are molehills, to them they are mountains. This consideration we should ever bear in mind. And when our pupils come to us with the recital of their wants and griefs, let us put ourselves in their position, and appreciate their state of mind; and while we tell them that their sorrows should be bravely borne, let us be careful that we show that in their sorrows we sorrow. A word of sympathy, a look of kindness, any act of affection, will dry the tears of the grieving child, and make whole again that tender heart which some childish disaster had broken. But we must not suppose that all the pains and sorrows of our little pupils are unreal and imaginary. From the aching head and the aching heart, childhood is not exempt. Most painful physical suffering is often their experience. As one day we made our accustomed semiweekly call at one of the schools in T., we noticed an unusual expression in the countenance of sweet little Willie. We spoke with him, found that he was ill, and went with him to his home. Such was his attachment to his Teacher and schoolmates, that the next morning, though very ill, he was permitted to return to school; but in a few hours he was obliged to be carried home. We called to see him, and it was but too apparent that the dear boy was soon to die. He wished to see his Teacher and the scholars of his school; but the necessity for quiet forbade their visit. After a few hours of acutest pain, of spasms terrible to witness, precious little Willie died.

Such events often occur in Schools. What Teacher has never wept

at the grave of a pupil? By the memory of the departed dear ones, by the fact that all our pupils are thus exposed to disease and death, let us ever treat them with all that kind regard which their condition demands.

We have spoken of the love which parents feel for their children. But all parents are not thus loving. Some of our most affectionate and beloved pupils are the children of intemperate and cruel fathers,-of unfeeling and negligent mothers. For them there is no "sweet home,'

no smiles of love, no kisses of affection. Poor children! more to be pitied than orphans? Let them in their Teacher find a loving heart, in their school a home.

But how many of our children have by death been deprived of a Mother's care, a Father's protection. Motherless, or fatherless, or orphans, how their young hearts bleed at the remembrance of loving parents whom never more shall they see on earth. Who now should love them, who now should show them kindness, more than their Teachers? Excuse us, reader, for a departure from custom, in alluding to the death, this week, of a mother* of four of the young children in the schools of one of the cities of Ohio. O Hunt and Dudley, Lillie and Emma, how will your young spirits mourn your great loss, the death of so kind and dear a Mother!

But there are in our schools thousands of little children whom no Father's voice blesses,-no Mother's smile rejoices. Teachers, let not this truth be forgotten, the sorrows of our pupils are not all unreal, imaginary. And if now they are exempt from the weight of care, the oppressions of sorrow, such as older persons experience, these cares and sorrows will yet come upon them. Seldom do we experience such feelings of kindness towards happy children, as when we reflect on the woes which are in store for their experience. What bitterness of spirit, what deep anguish of soul, will they feel ere they go down to the grave!

Again, kindness on the part of Teachers will render them the objects of their pupils' affection. What has already been said in respect to the reciprocal nature and effects of kindness is sufficient to demonstrate the truth that if we would be loved by our pupils, we must first love them. And if we have their hearts, it will be no difficult matter to secure their obedience. Cross and ill-natured Teachers usually have disobedient and troublesome pupils.

Finally, if we are kind to our pupils, they will catch our spirit, and

* Mrs. Rev. H. B. WALBRIDGE, sister to the Governor of Ohio, died at Toledo, on Sabbath, June 8th.

be kind to each other. Than this nothing is more important. It is the cold selfishness of the world, which, more than any thing else, plants life's pathway with thorns, and sows, broadcast, the seeds of human wretchedness. If all were kind, if all measured their conduct by the golden rule, if all loved all as themselves, how soon would human life put on a brighter, a happier aspect. Over earth joy and gladness would take the place of sorrow and sighing, and all tears would be wiped away. Heaven and earth would come together, and men and angels would shout for joy.

To prevent misapprehension, we remark that by the term kindness, we do not intend indulgence. The infinite love of God does not prevent Him from inflicting chastisements, and it is very far from true that a failure to correct a bad pupil, is evidence of affection, or benevolence, on the part of the Teacher.

LETTERS TO THE CHILDREN OF OHIO.

DEAR CHILDREN :

NUMBER IV.

It yet lacks ten days of July, but as I wish to have this number printed in season to reach all subscribers by the 25th of June, I must write this letter to day.

I have been in a good many towns since I wrote my last letter to you, and have been very glad to hear that you like to read my letters. But I have not received one letter from you yet. Now, Children, is not that too bad? I feel rather sad about it, and am afraid that you do not care much about me, any way. And another thing,—you have not sent me any subscribers. Unless a good many more people subscribe for the Journal, it will have to stop, and then you can have no

more letters.

But I will not blame my good Children,- I think that they will do better one of these days. So I will write you another letter, which I hope you will read with some interest. I meant to write this letter about the Blind Children who are attending an Institution in Columbus to learn to read, and who study all the branches that other children do. But before I could write such a letter, I should have to

spend several hours in their school to find out what to write. I have not time for that this week, for I have a world of work to do. So I will let that blind subject go till the next time, and to day I will write about a journey I have just taken to Pickaway county, and about a very famous Indian, named Logan, who once lived there.

Children, did you ever ride in a stage? Before railroads came into fashion, almost everybody traveled in stages. But till three days ago, I had not been in one for eight years. Well, the stage came round to my boarding-house at five o'clock in the morning, and off we started for Circleville. There were eleven ladies and children in the stage, and eleven men on it. I chose to ride outside with the driver, for I could see the world to better advantage. Twenty-two persons made a pretty big load; but the four horses trotted off with us so fast that at nine o'clock we were in Circleville, twenty-five miles from Columbus. The road is excellent, the country is very beautiful, the morning was cool and pleasant, and I enjoyed the ride exceedingly. I saw some of the finest farms that Ohio affords. We passed through beautiful groves. Flowers and clover perfumed the air, and about a million of happy birds filled it with their sweet singing. I will tell you what it is, my good Children, when you wish to take the pleasantest journey in the world, just come to Columbus, get away up on top of a stage-coach, and take a ride to Circleville.

When in Circleville I visited the Public Schools of that quiet and pleasant city. I have been in a great many excellent schools in Ohio, but no where have I seen better than those in C. I do wish you could have seen the little boys and girls in the rooms of Misses Birdsall and Wilson, as they went through their calisthenic exercises. But I have not time to tell you all that I would like to about those schools. When you go there, call at the office of the Superintendent, Mr. Lynch, and he will very kindly show you through the several rooms.

About five miles below Circleville, on the west side of the Scioto, is the place where once stood Logan's Cabin. Logan was a famous chief of the Shawnee Indians, whose villages, eighty years ago, were scattered over the Pickaway Plains. Many of these Indians had murdered the white people who had settled along the banks of the Ohio river. Lord Dunmore, who was then Governor of Virginia, raised an army, and marched to make war upon the Indians. One thousand Indian warriors met this army at the mouth of the Great Kanawha, in Virginia. A terrible battle was fought, and a great many were killed on both sides. But the Indians were beaten, and retreated to their villages

on the Scioto. Lord Dunmore followed them to their homes, and would have destroyed them all, but the Indians having become greatly alarmed, sent him a flag of truce, and requested that a treaty of peace might be made between them. Logan would not go to the camp of Lord Dunmore, but requested his lordship to meet him near his cabin. When they met, Logan made a most eloquent and pathetic speech. He said that he had always been a friend to the white men; that when other chiefs made war against the whites, he had refused to join them. But finally a cruel white man had murdered the wife and all the children of Logan; that not one of all his relatives was left alive; and for that reason he had made war upon the whites.

But his speech is so eloquent, sad and touching that I must repeat it. Said he, "I appeal to any white man to say, if ever he entered Logan's cabin hungry, and I gave him no meat; if ever he came cold or naked, and I gave him not clothing.

"During the course of the last long and bloody war, Logan remained in his tent, an advocate for peace. Nay, such was my love for the whites, that those of my own country pointed at me as they passed by and said, 'Logan is the friend of white men.' I had even thought to live with you, but for the injuries of one man. Colonel Cresap, the last spring, in cold blood, and unprovoked, cut off all the relatives of Logan; not sparing even my women and children. There runs not a drop of my blood in any human creature. This called on me for revenge. I have sought it. I have killed many. I have fully glutted my vengeance. For my country, I rejoice at the beams of peace. Yet, do not harbor the thought that mine is the joy of fear. Logan never felt fear. He will not turn on his heel to save his life. there to mourn for Logan? Not one."

Who is

When I stood on the spot where this speech was uttered, I mourned and almost wept for Logan. Children do you not feel sorry for him when you think that all his loved ones had been cruelly murdered? Logan himself at last was murdered near Detroit, in Michigan.

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A little boy died in Bangor, on Tuesday, from the effects of using an old tobacco pipe to blow soap bubbles with. His little sister, who used it with him is lying dangerously ill. It is supposed they were poisoned with the essentia oil of tobacco, imbibed from the pipe which they were using.

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