THE STUBBORN CHILD.
Mr. Steady was walking out with his little son, when he met a boy with a satchel on his shoulder, crying and sobbing dismally. Mr. Steady accostedhim, kindly inquiring what was the matter.
Mr. Steady.Why do you cry?
Boy.They send me to school: and I do not like it.
Mr. Steady.You are a silly boy! what! would you play all day?
Boy.Yes, I would.
Mr. Steady.None but babies do that; your friends are very kind to you.—If they have not time to teach you themselves, then it is their duty to send you where you may be taught; but you must take pains yourself, else you will be a dunce.
Little Steady.Pray, may I give him my book of fables out of my pocket?
Mr. Steady.Do, my dear.
Little Steady.Here it is—it will teach you to do as you are bid—I am never happy when I have been naughty—are you happy?
Boy.I cannot be happy; no person loves me.
Little Steady.Why?
Mr. Steady.I can tell you why; because he is not good.
Boy.I wish I was good.
Mr. Steady.Then try to be so; itis easy; you have only to do as your parents and friends desire you.
Boy.But why should I go to school?
Mr. Steady.Good children ask for no reasons; a wise child knows that his parents can best judge what is proper; and unless they choose to explain the reason of their orders, he trusts that they have a good one; and he obeys without inquiry.
Little Steady.I will not saywhyagain, when I am told what to do; but will always do as I am bid immediately. Pray, sir, tell the story of MissWilful.
Mr. Steady.MissWilfulcame tostay a few days with me; now she knew that I always would have children obey me: so she did as I bade her; but she did not always do a thing as soon as she was spoken to; and would often whine outwhy?—thatalways seems to me like saying—I think I am as wise as you are; and I would disobey you if I durst.
One day I saw MissWilfulgoing to play with a dog, with which I knew it was not proper for her to meddle; and I said. Let that dog alone.
Why? said Miss—I play withWag, and I play withPhillis, and why may I not play withPompey.
I made her no answer—but thought she might feel the reason soon.
Now the dog had been ill-used by a girl, who was so naughty as to make a sport of holding meat to his mouth and snatching it away again; which made him take meat roughly, and always be surly to girls.
Soon after Miss stole to the dog, held out her hand as if she had meat for him, and then snatched it away again. The creature resented this treatment, and snapped at her fingers. When I met her crying, with her hand wrapped in a napkin. “So,” said I, “you have beenmeddling with the dog! Now you knowwhyI bade you letPompeyalone.”
Little Steady.Did she not think you were unkind not to pity her? I thought—do not be displeased, father—but I thought it was strange that you did not comfort her.
Mr. Steady.You know that her hand was not very much hurt, and the wound had been dressed when I met her.
Little Steady.Yes, father, but she was so sorry!
Mr. Steady.She was not so sorry for her fault, as for its consequences.
Little Steady.What, father?
Mr. Steady.Her concern was for the pain which she felt in her fingers; not for the fault which had occasioned it.
Little Steady.She was very naughty, I know; for she said that she would get a pair of thick gloves, andthenshe would teasePompey.
Mr. Steady.Naughty girl! how ill-disposed! then my lecture was lost upon her. I bade her while she felt the smart, resolve to profit byPompey’slesson; and learn to believe that her friends might have good reasons for their orders; though they did not thinkit proper always to acquaint her with them.
Little Steady.I once cut myself with a knife which I had not leave to take; and when I see the scar, I always consider that I ought not to have taken the knife.
Mr. Steady.That, I think, is the school-house; now go in, and be good.