In all this I do not neglect the physical side. They can ride and
swim. They go out in all weathers and get wholesomely wet, dirty,
and tired. Games are a difficulty, but I want them to be able, if
necessary, to do without games. We botanise, we look for nests, we
geologise, we study birds through glasses, we garden. It is all
very unscientific, but they observe, they perceive, they love the
country. Moreover, Maud has a passion for knowing all the village
people, and takes the children with her, so that they really know
the village-folk all round; they are certainly tremendously happy
and interested in everything. Of course they are volatile in their
tastes, but I rather encourage that. I know that in the little old
moral books the idea was that nothing should be taken up by
children, unless it was done thoroughly and perseveringly; but I
had rather that they had a wide experience; the time to select and
settle down upon a pursuit is not yet, and I had rather that they
found out for themselves what they care about, than practise them
in a premature patience. The only thing I object to is their taking
up something which they have tried and dropped; then I do require a
pledge that they shall stick to it. I say to them, "I don't mind
how many things you try, and if you find you don't care about one,
you may give it up when you have given it a trial; but it is a bad
thing to be always changing, and everybody can't do everything; so
don't take up this particular thing again, unless you can give a
good reason for thinking you will keep to it."

One of the things I insist upon their doing, whether they like it
or not, is learning to play the piano. There are innumerable
people, I find, who regret not having been made to overcome the
initial difficulties of music; and the only condition I make is,
that they shall be allowed to stop when they can play a simple