But, before I touch upon the subject of the monthly nurse, I want to impress upon my readers that, though the nursery is undoubtedly a kingdom, where the children can do pretty much as they like providing they do not get into mischief, and that they remember that, being ladies and gentlemen in embryo, they must behave as ‘sich,’ they yet must look upon the nursery as a lesson-ground, where good seed can be sown, and one of the first lessons to teach any one, child or small maid, is to be gentle and quiet. I never could understand why children cannot be happy without yelling at the top of their voices, and servants without stamping about in heavy boots, slamming doors, and shouting to each other; and one of the first things I always impress on all my household is that loud shrieks and strident voices are not allowed from any one. I have actually had my life rendered a burden to me sometimes by neighbours’ offspring, whose one end and aim in life seemed to me to see who could scream loudest (I don’t mean cry, by the way, but simply yell at the top of their voices, for the pleasure of hearing them, I suppose); and remembering that we as children never were allowed to indulge in a pastime that would have seriously impaired our father’s powers of working--that we were perfectly happy, although we were not permitted to shriek--I have had none of this elegant amusement in my nursery, and we have found ourselves extremely comfortable without it; and this same discipline of gentleness and quiet is also valuable in keeping a room nice and being able to have pretty things in it. Why should children be destructive and untidy? A good nurse soon sees they are not, and by giving the dear things nice surroundings you do your best to insure nice tastes, though, of course, some untidy, tasteless ancestor may crop out suddenly and utterly confound all one’s theories, by giving us a child who will not learn the proper colours to harmonise with each other, the while he or she puts boots on the beds, and leaves a room looking as if hay had just been made therein. But with children, as with everything else, one can but do one’s best and utmost for them, never relaxing one’s care and trouble--and one can do no more. They are sure to come right in the end somehow, although we cannot quite see how. And so, regardless of the ravages of boys and small maids, I go on making my house pretty, and hope by silent example to do yet more than I have already done towards humanising both of these riotous elements in one’s household; for boys should not be the tyrants they undoubtedly are, and should learn easily that things have a right to respect as well as people.