Two beautiful children, a boy and a girl, the oldest but six yearsof age, came in from school one evening, later than usual by half anhour. Both their eyes were red with weeping, and their cheeks wetwith tears. Their father, Mr. Warren, who had come home from hisbusiness earlier than usual, had been waiting some time for theirreturn, and wondering why they stayed so late. They were his onlychildren, and he loved them most tenderly. They had, a few weeksbefore, been entered at a school kept by a lady in theneighborhood--not so much for what they would learn, as to giveoccupation to their active minds.

"Why, Anna! Willy!" exclaimed Mr. Warren, as the children came in,"what's the matter? Why have you stayed so late?"

Anna lifted her tearful eyes to her father's face, and her lipcurled and quivered. But she could not answer his question.

Mr. Warren took the grieving child in his arms, and as he drew herto his bosom, said to Willy, who was the oldest--

"What has made you so late, dear?"

"Miss Roberts kept us in," sobbed Willy.

"Kept you in!" returned Mr. Warren, in surprise. "How came that?"

"Because we laughed," answered the child, still sobbing and weeping.

"What made you laugh?"

"One of the boys made funny faces."

"And did you laugh too, dear?" asked the father of Anna.

"Yes, papa. But I couldn't help it. And Miss Roberts scolded so, andsaid she was going to whip us."

"And was that all you did?"

"Yes, indeed, papa," said Willy.

"I'll see Miss Roberts about it," fell angrily from the lips of Mr.Warren. "It's the last time you appear in her school. A cruel-mindedwoman!"

And then the father soothed his grieving little ones withaffectionate words and caresses.

"Dear little angels!" said Mr. Warren to his wife, shortlyafterwards, "that any one could have the heart to punish them for asudden outburst of joyous feelings! And Anna in particular, a merebabe as she is, I can't get over it. To think of her being kept infor a long half hour, under punishment, after all the other childrenhad gone home. It was cruel. Miss Roberts shall hear from me on thesubject."

"I don't know, dear, that I would say any thing about it," remarkedthe mother, who was less excited about the matter, "I don't thinkshe meant to be severe. She, doubtless, forgot that they were sovery young."

"She'd no business to forget it. I've no idea of my children beingused after this fashion. The boy that made them laugh should havebeen kept in, if any punishment had to be inflicted. But it's theway with cruel-minded people. The weakest are always chosen asobjects of their dislike."

"I am sure you take this little matter too much to heart," urged themother. "Miss Roberts must have order in her school, and even theyoungest must conform to this order. I do not think the punishmentso severe. She had to do something to make them remember theirfault, and restrain their feelings in future; and she could hardlyhave done less. It is not too young for them to learn obedience inany position where they are introduced."

But the over fond and tender father could see no reason for thepunishment his little ones had received; and would not consent tolet them go again to the school of Miss Roberts. To him they wereearth's most precious things. They were tender flowers; and he wastroubled if ever the winds blew roughly upon them.

Seven years have passed. Let us visit the home of Mr. Warren andlook at him among his children. No; we will not enter this pleasanthouse--he moved away long ago. Can this be the home of Mr. Warren!Yes. Small, poor, and comfortless as it is! Ah! there have been sadchanges.

Let us enter. Can that be Warren? That wretched lookingcreature--with swollen, disfigured face and soiled garments--whosits, half stupid, near the window? A little flaxen-haired child isplaying on the floor. It is not Anna. No; seven years have changedher from the fairylike little creature she was when her fatherbecame outraged at her punishment in Miss Roberts' school! PoorAnna! That was light as the thistle down to what she has sincereceived from the hands of her father. The child on the floor isbeautiful, even in her tattered clothes. She has been playing forsome time. Now her father calls to her in a rough, grumbling voice.

"Kate! You, Kate, I say!"

Little Kate, not five years old, leaves her play and goes up towhere her parent is sitting.

"Go and get me a drink of water," said he in a harsh tone ofauthority.

Kate takes a tin cup from a table and goes to the hydrant in theyard. So pleased is she in seeing the water run, that she forgetsher errand. Three or four times she fills the cup, and then poursforth its contents, dipping her tiny feet in the stream that ismade. In the midst of her sport, she hears an angry call, andremembering the errand upon which she has been sent, hurriedly fillsher cup again and bears it to her father. She is frightened as shecomes in and sees his face; this confuses her; her foot catches insomething as she approaches, and she falls over, spilling the cup ofwater on his clothes. Angrily he catches her up, and, cruel in hispassion, strikes her three or four heavy blows.

"Now take that cup and get me some water!" he cries, in a loudvoice, "and if you are not here with it in a minute, I'll beat thelife half out of you! I'll teach you to mind when your spoken to, Iwill! There! Off with you!"

Little Kate, smarting from pain, and trembling with fear, lifts thecup and hurries away to perform her errand. She drops it twice fromher unsteady hands ere she is able to convey it, filled with water,to her parent, who takes it with such a threatening look from hiseyes, that the child shrinks away from him, and goes from the roomin fear.

An hour passes, and the light of day begins to fade.

Evening comes slowly on, and at length the darkness closes in. Buttwice since morning has Warren been from the house, and then it wasto get something to drink. The door at length opens quietly, and a,little girl enters. Her face is thin and drooping, and wears a lookof patient suffering.

"You're late, Anna," says the mother, kindly.

"Yes, ma'am. We had to stay later for our money. Mr. Davis was awayfrom the store, and I was afraid I would have to come home withoutit. Here it is."

Mrs. Warren took the money.

"Only a dollar!" There was disappointment in her tones as she saidthis.

"Yes, ma'am, that is all," replied Anna, in a troubled voice. "Ispoiled some work, and Mr. Davis said I should pay for it, and so hetook half a dollar from my wages."

"Spoiled your work!" spoke up the father, who had been listening."That's more of your abominable carelessness!"

"Indeed, father; I couldn't help it," said Anna, "one of thegirls--"

"Hush up, will you! I want none of your lying excuses. I know you!It was done on purpose, I have not the least doubt."

Anna caught her breath, like one suddenly deprived of air. Tearsrushed to her eyes and commenced falling over her cheeks, while herbosom rose and fell convulsively.

"Come, now! None of that!" said the cruel father sternly. "Stop yourcrying instantly, or I will give you something to cry for! A prettystate of things, indeed, when every word must be answered by a fitof crying!"

The poor child choked down her feelings as best she could, turningas she did so from her father; that he might not see the stillremaining traces of her grief which it was impossible at once tohide.

Not a single dollar had the idle, drunken father earned during theweek, that he had not expended in self-indulgence; and yet, in hisbrutality, he could roughly chide this little girl, yet too youngfor the taskmaster, because she had lost half a dollar of her week'searnings through an accident, the very nature of which he would nothear explained. So grieved was the poor child at this unkindness,that when supper was on the table she shrunk away from the room.

"Come, Anna, to your supper," called the mother.

"I don't wish any thing to eat," replied the child, in a faintvoice.

"Oh, yes; come and get something."

"Let her alone!" growls the father. "I never humor sulky children.She doesn't deserve any supper."

The mother sighs. While the husband eats greedily, consuming,himself, more than half that is on the table, she takes but a fewmouthfuls, and swallows them with difficulty.

After supper, Willy, who is just thirteen, and who has already beenbound out as an apprentice to a trade, comes home. He has a tale ofsuffering to tell. For some fault his master has beaten him untilthe large purple welts lie in meshes across his back from hisshoulders to his hips.

"How comes all this?" asks Mr. Warren. There is not the smallestsign of sympathy in his voice.

Willy relates the cause, and tells it truly. He was something toblame, but his fault needed not the correction of stripes evenlightly applied.

"Served you right!" said the father, when the story was ended. "Nobusiness to have acted so. Do as you are told, and mind your work,and you'll escape flogging. Otherwise, I don't care how often youget it. You've been spoiled at home, and it'll do you good to toethe mark. Did your master know you were coming home to-night?"

"No, sir," replied the boy, with trembling lips, and a chokingvoice.

"Then what did you come for? To get pitied? Do right and you'll needno pity."

"Oh, James, don't speak so to the child!" said Mrs. Warren, unableto keep silence.

This was answered by an angry look.

"You must go back to your master, boy," said the father, after apause. "When you wish to come home, ask his consent."

"He doesn't object to my coming home," said Willy, his voice stillquivering.

"Go back, I tell you! Take your hat, there, and go back. Don't comehere any more with your tales!"

The boy glanced towards his mother, and read pity and sympathy inher countenance, but she did not countermand the order; for she knewthat if she did so, a scene of violence would follow.

"Ask to come home in the morning," said she to her boy, as she heldhis hand tightly in hers at the door. He gave her a look of tenderthankfulness, and then went forth into the darkness, feeling so sadand wretched that he could not repress his tears.

Seven years. And was only this time required to effect such achange! Ah! rum is a demon! How quickly does it transform the tenderhusband and parent into a cruel beast! Look upon these two pictures,ye who tarry long at the wine! Look at them, but do not say they areoverdrawn! They have in them only the sober hues and subdued colorsof truth.

THE END.

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