TO A FATHER

225.  ‘Little children,’ says the Scripture, ’are like arrows in the hands of the giant, and blessed is the man that hath his quiver full of them’; a beautiful figure to describe, in forcible terms, the support, the power, which a father derives from being surrounded by a family.  And what father, thus blessed, is there who does not feel, in this sort of support, a reliance which he feels in no other?  In regard to this sort of support there is no uncertainty, no doubts, no misgivings; it is yourself that you see in your children:  their bosoms are the safe repository of even the whispers of your mind:  they are the great and unspeakable delight of your youth, the pride of your prime of life, and the props of your old age.  They proceed from that love, the pleasures of which no tongue or pen can adequately describe, and the various blessings which they bring are equally incapable of description.

226.  But, to make them blessings, you must act your part well; for they may, by your neglect, your ill-treatment, your evil example, be made to be the contrary of blessings; instead of pleasure, they may bring you pain; instead of making your heart glad, the sight of them may make it sorrowful; instead of being the staff of your old age, they may bring your gray hairs in grief to the grave.

227.  It is, therefore, of the greatest importance, that you here act well your part, omitting nothing, even from the very beginning, tending to give you great and unceasing influence over their minds; and, above all things, to ensure, if possible, an ardent love of their mother.  Your first duty towards them is resolutely to prevent their drawing the means of life from any breast but hers.  That is their own; it is their birthright; and if that fail from any natural cause, the place of it ought to be supplied by those means which are frequently resorted to without employing a hireling breast.  I am aware of the too frequent practice of the contrary; I am well aware of the offence which I shall here give to many; but it is for me to do my duty, and to set, with regard to myself, consequences at defiance.

228.  In the first place, no food is so congenial to the child as the milk of its own mother; its quality is made by nature to suit the age of the child; it comes with the child, and is calculated precisely for its stomach.  And, then, what sort of a mother must that be who can endure the thought of seeing her child at another breast!  The suckling may be attended with great pain, and it is so attended in many cases; but this pain is a necessary consequence of pleasures foregone; and, besides, it has its accompanying pleasures too.  No mother ever suffered more than my wife did from suckling her children.  How many times have I seen her, when the child was beginning to draw, bite her lips while the tears ran down her cheeks!  Yet, having endured this, the smiles came and dried up the tears; and the little thing that had caused the pain received abundant kisses as its punishment.