FullReads

“Now, Sarah, let us go and see what Mary has been doing; but before we enter the room, let me beg of you not to show angry displeasure, nor to speak a harsh or loud word to Mary, no matter what she may have been about; for it will do no good, but harm. You have tried it long enough, and its ill effects call upon you to make a new experiment.”

Mrs. Elder, who was in a better state than she was half an hour before, readily agreed to this. They then went together into the room. As they entered, Mary looked up at them from the floor where she was, sitting, her face bright with smiles at seeing them.

“You lit”–

Uncle William grasped quickly the hand of his sister to remind her that she was not to speak harshly to Mary, no matter what she was doing, and was thus able to check the storm of angry reproof that was about to break upon the head of the child, who had been up to the book-case and taken, therefrom two rows of books, with which she was playing on the floor.

“What are you doing, dear?” asked Uncle William, kindly.

“Building a house,” replied the child, the smiles that the sudden change in the mother’s countenance had driven from her face, coming back and lighting up her beautiful young brow. “See here what a pretty house I have, uncle! And here is the fence, and these are trees.”

“So it is, a very pretty house,” replied the uncle, while the mother could scarcely repress her indignation at the outrage Mary had committed upon the book-case.

The uncle glanced toward the table, upon which the, work-basket remained undisturbed. He then sat down, and said–“Come here, love.”

Mary got up and ran quickly to him.

“You didn’t touch mother’s work-basket?” he said.

“No, sir,” replied Mary.

“Why?”

Mary thought a moment, and then said–“You told me not to do it any more.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I take the cotton and scissors, mother can’t make aprons and frocks for Mary.”

“And if you go into her work-basket, you disturb every thing and make her a great deal of trouble. You won’t do it any more?”

“No, sir.” And the child shook her head earnestly.

“Didn’t you know that it was also wrong to take the books out of the book-case? It not only hurts the books, but throws the room and the book-case into disorder.”

“I wanted to build a house,” said Mary.

“But books are to read, not to build houses with.”

“Won’t you ask papa to buy me a box of blocks, like Hetty Green’s, to build houses with?”

“I’ll buy them for you myself the next time I go out,” replied Uncle William.

“Oh, will you?” And Mary clapped her hands joyfully together.

“But you must never disturb the books in the book-case any more.”

“No, sir,” replied the child, earnestly.

Mrs. Elder felt rebuked. To hide what was too plainly exhibited in her countenance, she stooped to the floor and commenced taking up the books and replacing them in the book-case.

“Now go up into my room, Mary, and wait there until I come. I want to tell you something.”

The child went singing up-stairs as happy as she could be.

“You see, Sarah, that kind words are more effective than harsh names with children. Mary didn’t touch your work-basket.”

“But she went to the book-case, which was just as bad. Children must be in some mischief.”

“Not so bad, Sarah; for she had been made to comprehend why it was wrong to go to your basket, but not so of the book-case.”

“I’m sure I’ve scolded her about taking down the books fifty times, and still, every chance she can get, she’s at them again.”

“You may have scolded her; but scolding a child and making it comprehend its error are two things. Scolding darkens the mind by arousing evil passions, instead of enlightening it with clear perceptions of right and, wrong. No child is ever improved by scolding, but always injured.”