Never, under any circumstances, _strike a child on the head_ or _box the ears_. That is the act of anger, and in general is practiced only when the judgment is overruled by passion. Do not attempt to turn a child from the “error of his ways” by any such heathenish means. No one can judge at the time of the force of a blow dealt in anger; and though done thoughtlessly, in a moment of irritation, it may bring life-long suffering and sorrow. So, shutting up a child in a dark room, though it may not appear at the time so barbarous, has often resulted in the most painful, if not fatal injuries. Neither do we approve of attempting to convert a child through its appetite; a dark room, a cup of water, and a crust of bread savors too much of the inquisition or the convict’s cell for Christian parents to imitate. After all, each one must be a law unto himself. Another cannot give special rules for any one; but there is one thing that it may be well for every parent to bear in mind always, namely, that probably a large proportion of the evil we find in our children is but the continuation or increase of our own faults, unheeded while they were our own. And this should teach us great caution, great love and gentleness in governing our little imitators. Mrs. Mary Crann, some years ago, published some pretty verses on “The Little Foxes,” which spoil our “beloved vines.” They are very touching, because so true, and mothers cannot fail to read them with deep feeling, and with full hearts thank the author who in these lines gives utterance to the sorrow and self-condemnation which so often oppress them, when their own faults and failings look at them through their little ones. We think we cannot do better than to finish by giving our readers the whole poem:-- “Little foxes, spoiling The beloved vine Trusted to my tending By the One Divine. Little foxes, wherefore Have ye entrance found To the vine so precious Growing in my ground? “Have ye leaped the fences? Have ye climbed the wall? Were there tiny openings? Ye are very small, And ye can creep slyly Through a tiny space; But I thought I closed up Every open place. “And I watched by daytime, And I watched by night, For the vine you’re spoiling Is my heart’s delight! I have kept the earth-worm From its precious root; I have trimmed its branches, But they bear no fruit. “For the little foxes Have assailed the vine, Trusted to my tending By the One Divine; And though I’ve been faithful Since its birthday morn, They were in the garden When the babe was born. “For they are the failings That I would not see When they were _my_ failings, When they dwelt in me; Little faults unheeded, That I now despise; For my baby took them With my hair and eyes.