The Home Mission Part 18

"But it is very hard to do this. We have not the wisdom of Solomon.

Every day, nay, almost every hour, we err in judgment; and especially in a matter so little understood as the management of children."

"Better, then, have very few laws, and them of the clearest kind.

But, having them, implicit obedience should be exacted. At least, that is my rule."

"And you punish for every infraction?"

"Certainly. But, I am always sure that the child is fully aware of his fault, and let my punishment be graduated according to the wilfulness of the act."

"And you do this coolly?"

"Oh, yes. I never punish a child while I am excited with a feeling of indignation for the offence."

"If I waited for that to pa.s.s off, I could never punish one of my children."

"Do you find, under this system, that your children are growing up orderly and obedient?"

"No, indeed! Of course I do not. Who ever heard of orderly and obedient children? In fact, who would wish their children to be mere automatons? I am sure I would not. They are, by nature, restless, and impatient of control. It will not do to break down their young spirits. As for punishments, I don't believe much in them, any how.

I have an idea that the less they are brought into requisition the better. They harden children. Kindness, long suffering, and forbearance will accomplish a great deal more, and in the end be better for the child."

At this moment a little fellow came sliding into the parlour, with a look that said plainly enough, "I know you don't want me here."

"Run out, Charley, dear," said Mrs. Stanley, in a mild voice.

But Charley did not seem to notice his mother's words, for he continued advancing toward her, until he was by her side, when he paused and looked the visiter steadily in the face.

"Charley, you must run out, my dear," said Mrs. Stanley, in a firmer and more decided voice.

But Charley only leaned heavily against his mother, not heeding in the smallest degree her words. Knowing how impossible it would be to get the child out of the room, without a resort to violence, Mrs.

Stanley said no more to him, but continued the conversation with her friend. She had only spoken a few words, however, before Charley interrupted her by saying--

"Mother!--Mother!--Give me a piece of cake."

"No, my son. You have had cake enough this afternoon," replied Mrs.

Stanley.

"Oh yes, do, mother, give me a piece of cake."

"It will make you sick, Charley."

"No, it won't. Please give me some."

"I had rather not."

"Yes, mother. Oh do! I want a piece of cake."

"Go 'way, Charles, and don't tease me."

There was a slight expression of impatience in the mother's voice.

The child ceased his importunities for a few moments, but just as Mrs. Stanley had commenced a sentence, intended to embody some wise saying in regard to the management of children, the little boy broke in upon her with--

"I say, mother, give me a piece of cake, won't you?" in quite a loud voice.

Mrs. Stanley felt irritated by this importunity, but she governed herself. Satisfied that there would be no peace unless the cake were forthcoming, she said, looking affectionately at the child:

"Poor little fellow! I suppose he does feel hungry. I don't think another piece of cake will hurt him. Excuse me a moment, Mrs.

Noland."

The cake was obtained by Charley in the very way he had, hundreds of times before, accomplished his purpose, that is, by teasing it out of his mother. For the next ten minutes the friends conversed, unmolested. At the end of that time Charley again made his appearance.

"Go up into the nursery, and stay with Ellen," said Mrs. Stanley.

The child took no notice, whatever, of this direction, but walked steadily up to where his mother was sitting, saying, as he paused by her side--

"I want another piece of cake."

"Not any more, my son."

"Yes, mother. Give me some more."

"No." This was spoken in a very positive way. Charley began to beg in a whining tone, which, not producing the desired effect, soon rose into a well-defined cry.

"I declare! I never saw such a hungry set as my children are. They will eat constantly from morning until night." Mrs. Stanley did not say this in the most amiable tone of voice.

"Mother! I want a piece of cake," cried Charley.

"I'll give you one little piece more; but, remember, that it will be the last; so don't ask me again."

Charley stopped crying at once. Mrs. Stanley went out with him. As soon as she was far enough from the parlour not to be heard, she took Charley by the shoulders, and giving him a violent shake, said--

"You little rebel, you! If you come into the parlour again, I'll skin you!"

The cake was given. Charley cared about as much for the threat as he did for the shaking. He had gained his end.

"I pray daily for patience to bear with my children," said Mrs.

Stanley, on returning to the parlour. "They try us severely."

"That they do," replied Mrs. Noland. "But it is in our power, by firmness, consistency, and kindness, to render our tasks comparatively light."

"Perhaps so. I try to be firm, and consistent, and kind with my children; to exercise toward them constant forbearance; but, after all, it is very hard to know exactly how to govern them."

"Mother, can't I go over into the square?" asked Emma, looking into the parlour just at this time. She was a little girl about eight years old.

"I would rather not have you go, my dear," returned Mrs. Stanley.

"Oh yes, mother, do let me go," urged Emma.

"Ellen can't go with you now; and I do not wish you to go alone."