I was very young when I first began to wonder why the world was so ; and now I am growing old, and it is not a more sensible than it used to be. Still, as a child I was in full accord with the other boys and girls about the stupidity of the world. Of course most of this on the part of older people came from their constant interference with our desires and plans. None of them seemed to remember that they once were young and had looked out at the great wide world through the wondering eyes of the little child.  
It seemed to us as if our elders were in a universal against us children; and we in turn combined to defeat their plans. I wonder where my little playmates have strayed on the great round world, and if they have grown as unreasonable as our 178fathers and mothers used to be! Reasonable or unreasonable, it is certain that our parents never knew what was best for us to do. At least, I thought so then; and although the wisdom, or at least the experience, of many years has been added to my childish stock, I am bound to say that I think so still. Even a boy might sometimes be trusted to know what he ought to do; and the instinct and teachings of Nature, as they speak directly to the child, should have some weight.
 
But with our parents and teachers all this counted not the least. The very fact that we wanted to do things seemed ample reason why we should not. I venture to say that at least nine-tenths of our requests were denied; and when consent was granted, it was given in the most way. The one great word that always stood straight across our path was “No,” and I am sure that the first instinct of our elders on hearing of our desires was to refuse. I wondered then, and I wonder still, what would happen if our elders and the world at large should take the other and persuade themselves to say “Yes” as often as they could!
 
Every child was told exactly what he ought 179to do. If I could only get a printed list of the rules given for my conduct day by day, I am sure they would fill this book. In arithmetic and grammar I always skipped the rules, and no scholar was ever yet found who liked to learn a rule or could tell anything about it after it was learned.
 
I well remember what a fearful task it was to learn the rule for partial payments in the old arithmetic. I could figure interest long before I learned the rule; and although I now have no trouble in figuring interest,—and if I have, some does it for me,—still, to save my life, I could not now repeat the rule for partial payments. When was there ever a boy who knew how to do a sum, or a sentence, or pronounce a word, because he knew the rules? We knew how because we knew how, and that was all there was of the matter. Yet every detail of conduct was taught in the same way as the rules in school.
 
I could not eat a single meal without the use of rules, and most of these were violated when I had the chance. I distinctly remember that we generally had pie for supper in our youthful days. Now we have dessert for dinner, 180but then it was only pie for supper. Of course we never had all the pie we wanted, and we used to it slowly around the edges and carefully eat toward the middle of the piece to make it last as long as possible and still keep the pie-taste in our mouths.
 
I never could see why we should not have all the pie we could eat. It was not because of its cost, for my mother made it herself, just the same as bread. The only reason we could see was that we liked pie so well. Of course we were told that pie was not good for us; but I have always been told this about everything I liked to eat or do. Then, too, my mother insisted that I should eat the pie after the rest of the meal was done. Now, as a boy, I liked pie better than anything else that I could get to eat; and I have not yet grown so old but that I still like pie. I could see no reason why I should not eat my pie when I was hungry for it and when it looked so good. My mother said I must first eat potato and meat, and bread and butter; and when I had enough of these, I could eat the pie. Now, of course, after eating all these things even pie did not seem quite the same; 181my real appetite was gone before the pie was reached. Then, too, if a boy ate everything else first, he might never get to pie; he might be taken ill, or drop dead, or be sent from the table, or one of the other boys might come along and he be forced to choose between going swimming and eating pie,—whereas, if he began the meal according to his taste and made sure of the pie, if anything else should be missed it would not matter much.
 
Our whole lives were fashioned on the rules for eating pie. We were told that youth was the time for work and study, so that we might rest when we got old. Now, no boy ever cared to rest,—it is the very thing a boy does not want to do; but still, by all the rules we ever heard, this was the right way. Since I was a child I have never changed my mind. I do not think the pie should be put off to the end of the meal. I always think of my poor Aunt Mary, who saved her pie all through her life, and died without eating it at last. And, besides all this, it is quite possible that as we grow old our appetites will change, and we may not care for pie at all; at least, the coarser fare that the hard and cruel world is soon 182to serve up generously to us all is likely to make us lose our taste for pie. For my part, I am sure that when my last hours come I shall be glad that I ate all the pie I could get, and that if any part of the meal is left untasted it shall be the bread and butter and potatoes, and not the pie.
 
Of course we were told we should say “Yes, ma’am,” and “No, ma’am.” I observe that this rule has been changed since I was young,—or possibly it was the rule only in Farmington and such towns. At any rate, when I hear it now I look the second time to see if one of my old schoolmates has come back to me. But I cannot see why it was necessary for us to say “Yes, ma’am,” and “No, ma’am,” in Farmington, and so necessary not to say them in the outside world.
 
But while the rule made us say “Yes, ma’am,” and “No, ma’am,” it did not allow us to say much more. We were told that “Children should be seen and not heard.” It was assumed that what we had to say was of no account. As I was not very handsome when I was young, there was no occasion for me to be either seen or heard. True, we were 183taught how to talk, yet we had no sooner learned than we were told that we “must not speak unless spoken to.” It is true the conversation of children may not be so very edifying,—but, for that matter, neither is that of grown-up folk. It is quite possible that if children were allowed to talk freely, they might have a part of their nonsense talked out by the time they had matured; and then, too, they might learn much that would improve the conversation of their later life. At any rate, if a child was not meant to talk, his of speech might properly be until a riper age.
 
To take off our hats in the house, to say “Thank you” and “Please” and all such little things, were of course most . It did not occur to our elders that children were born imitators, or that they could possibly be taught in any other way than by rules.
 
The common moral were always taught by rule. We must obey our parents, and speak the truth. Just why we should do either was not made clear, although the penalty of neglect was ever there. The longer I 184live, the more I am convinced that children need not be taught to tell the truth. The fact is, parents do not teach them to tell the truth, but to lie. They tell the truth as naturally as they breathe, and it is only the stupidity and of parents and teachers that drive them to tell lies. In high society and low, parents lie to children much oftener than children lie to parents; it would not occur to a child to lie unless someone made him feel the need of doing so.
 
I remember that when I was a child two things used to cause me the greatest trouble. One was the fact that I had to go to bed so early at night, and the other that I had to get up so early in the morning. I have never known a natural child who was ready to go to bed at night or to get up in the morning. I suppose this was because work came first, and pie was put off to the end of the day; and we did not want to miss any of the pie. Of course there were exceptions to the rule. We were ready to get up in the gray dawn of the morning, to go a-fishing or blackberrying, or to celebrate the Fourth of July, or on Christmas, or to see a circus come to town, or on any such 185occasion. And likewise we were ready to go to bed early the night before, so that we might be read............