LITMIR.BIZ

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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."

      "There are few children who are not injured, then. I should like to see a mother get along with a parcel of children without scolding them."

      "It is a sad truth, as you say, that there are but few children who are not injured by scolding. No cause is so active for evil among children as their mother's impatience, which shows itself from the first, and acts upon them through the whole period in which their minds are taking impressions and hardening into permanent forms. Like you, Sarah, our own mother had but little patience among her children, and you can look back and remember, as well as I, many instances in which this impatience led her into hasty and ill-judged acts and expressions that did us harm rather than good."

      "It's an easy thing to talk, William. An easy thing to say—Have patience."

      "I know it is, Sarah; and a very hard thing to compel ourselves to have patience. But, if a mother's love for her children be not strong enough to induce her to govern herself for their sakes, who shall seek their good? Who will make any sacrifice for them?"

      "Are you not afraid to trust Mary up in your room?" said Mrs. Elder, recollecting at the moment that Mary was alone there for a longer time than she felt to be prudent.

      "No. She will not trouble any thing."

      "I'd be afraid to trust her. She's a thoughtless, impulsive child, and might do some damage."

      "No danger. She understands perfectly what may be and what may not be touched in my room, and so do all the children in the house. I wouldn't be afraid to leave them all there for an hour."

      "You'd be afraid afterwards, I guess, if you were to try the experiment."

      "I am willing to try it."

      "You are welcome."

      "Henry! William!" Uncle William went to the door and called the children.

      Two boys came romping into the room.

      "Boys," he said, "Mary is up in my room, and I want you to go up and stay with her until I come."

      Away scampered the little fellows as merry as crickets.

      "They'll make sad work in your room, brother; and if they do, you mustn't blame me for it."

      "Oh, no, I shall not blame you, nor scold them, but endeavour to apply some corrective that will make them think, and determine never to do so again. However, I am pretty well satisfied that nothing will be disturbed."

      In less than an hour, Mrs. Elder and her brother went up to see what the children were about. They found them seated on the floor, with two or three loose packs of plain cards about them, out of which they were forming various figures, by laying them together upon the floor.

      "Why, children! How could you take your uncle's cards?" said Mrs. Elder reprovingly.

      "He lets us play with them, mother," replied the oldest boy, turning to his uncle with an appealing look.

      "You haven't touched any thing else?" said Uncle William.

      "No, sir, nothing else. We found Mary playing with the cards when we came up, and we've been playing with them ever since. You don't care, do you, Uncle William?"

      "No; for I've told you, you remember, that you might play with the cards whenever you wanted to."

      "Can't we play with them longer, Uncle William?" asked Mary.

      "Yes, my dear, you can play with them as long as you choose."

      Mrs. Elder and her brother turned away and went down-stairs.

      "I don't know how it is, William, that they behave themselves so well in your room, and act like so many young Vandals in every other part of the house."

      "It is plain enough, Sarah," replied her brother. "I never scold them, and never push them aside when they come to me, no matter what I'm engaged in doing. I never think a little time taken from other employments thrown away when devoted to children; and, therefore, I generally hear what they have to say, let them come to me when they will. Sometimes I am engaged in such a way that I must not be interrupted, and then I lock my door. I have explained this to them, and now the

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