S88 ANNUAL REGISTER, 1804. 



LETTER XXVII. 



To the Rev. William Unwin. 



Sept. 17, 1780. 

 My dear friend, 



You desire my further thoughts 

 on the subject of education. I send 

 )'OU such as had for the most part 

 occurred to me when I wrote last, 

 but could not be comprised in a 

 single letter. They are indeed on 

 a diifercnt branch of this interesting 

 theme, but not less important than 

 the former. 



I ihink it your happiness, and 

 wish you to think yourself, that 

 you are, in every respe6t, qualified 

 for the task of instructing your son, 

 and preparing him for the univer- 

 sity, without committing him to the 

 care of a stranger. In my judgment 

 a domestic education deserves the 

 preference to a public one, on an 

 hundred accounts, which I have 

 neither time nor room to mention. 

 I shall only touch upon two or 

 three that I cannot but consider as 

 having a right to your most earnest 

 attention. 



In a public school, or indeed any 

 • school, his morals are sure to be 

 but little attended to, and his reli- 

 gion none at all. If he can catch the 

 love of virtue from the fine things 

 that are spoken of it in the Clas- 

 sics, and the love of holiness from 

 the customary attendance upon such 

 preaching as he is likely to hear, it 

 will be well ; but I am sure you 

 have had too many opportunities 

 to observe the inefficacy of such 

 means, to expect any such advantage 

 from them. In the mean time, the 

 more powerful influence' of bad ex- 

 ample, and perhaps of bad com- 

 pany, will continually counter work 

 these only preservatives he can meet 

 with, and may possibly send him 



home to you, at the end of five or 

 six years, such as you will be sorry 

 to see him. You escaped indeed 

 the contagion yourself, but a few 

 instances of happy exception from 

 a general malady, are not suflScient 

 warrant to conclude, that it is there- 

 fore not infectious, or may be en- 

 countered without danger. 



You have seen too much of the 

 world, and are a man of too much 

 reflection, not to have observed, 

 that, in proportion as the sons of 

 a family approach to years of ma- 

 turity, they lose a sense of ob- 

 ligations to their parents, and seem 

 at last almost divested of that ten- 

 der affection, which the nearest of 

 all relations seem to demand from 

 them. I have often observed it 

 myself, and have always thought I 

 could sufficiently account for it 

 without laying all the blame upon 

 the children. While they continue 

 in their parents' house, they are 

 every day obliged, and every day re- 

 minded how much it is their inter- 

 est, as well as duty, to be obliging 

 and aff^ectionate in return. But at 

 eight or nine years of age the boy 

 goes to school. From that moment 

 he becomes a stranger in his father's 

 house. The course of parental 

 kindness is interrupted. The smiles 

 of his mother, those tender admo- 

 nitions, and the solicitous care of 

 both his parents, are no longer be- 

 fore his eyes— year after year he 

 feels himself more and more de- 

 tached from them, till at last he is 

 so effectually weaned from the con- 

 nection, as to find himself happier 

 any where than in their company. 



I should have been glad of a 

 frank for this letter, for I have 

 said but little of what I could say 

 upon the subject, and perhaps I 

 may not be able to catch it by the 



, end 



