Grieve not at trifles, for like spring, That virtues bring. THE SPOILT CHILD. "Mamma! exclaimed a little girl of seven years old, as she pulled her mother's gown to arrest her attention"mamma! will you give me a little wine?"-"Wine?" my sweet Sophy," returned her mother, " you know Dr. Hartley particularly requested I would not give you any." "Never mind him, mamma; you know I am poorly, and must have what I like."-" Well, well, an orange will quench your thirst as well, and wine will make you more feverish, my love."-" Me won't have nasty oranges, and me will have wine," repeated the child in a quick pettish tone. "Little girls should not always have what they want!" I exclaimed, while, disgusted with her pettishness, 1 continued, "good children should take what is given them, and never ask for any thing else; particularly for what they know is improper." Sophia turned hastily round, and for a moment rested her quick eye upon me with silent surprise, as if to inquire by what authority 1 disputed her wishes; but when she found I was not inclined to feel intimidated by her glances, but was rather endeavoring to arrest the attention of her indulgent parent, she immediately interrupted the conversation by violently shaking her mother's knee as she passionately exclaimed, "mamma, mamma! me will have wine.""My dearest Sophy, you will make yourself ill by exertions so unequal to your strength; I am quite ashamed of you to-day;" and as she said so she poured out a glass of Madeira; then conscious of her folly, she turned to me, and, in an apologizing tone, continued, "Sophia is so very nervous now she is ill, that I think the wine will be of less danger than the probability there is of throwing her into convulsions, or of harassing her spirits by refusing her requests; poor child! it is cruel to contradict her now." But, my dear madam," I ventured to say, "have you considered the consequences of such blind indulgence? it is not the effect of the wine, which may prove most dangerous, it is your ready acquiescence to her improper requests which will render her temper more uncontrollable, by the expectation of ever securing the same indulgence by pursuing such censurable means of obtaining it."-"Oh, no! she is not always so naughty; and she should be indulged a little now she is poorly," said the fond mother in a confused tone; but in a more pettish accent, she continued, "I do not know why Susan should let the child come to the dessert; she might have guessed the consequences, knowing how she likes wine." "Susan's cross, mamma, and she won't let me do as I like: I hate her, and I won't speak to her again.”—“Oh, fie, Sophia, she is a good, obliging girl, and was very kind to you when you were ill."-" But I'm sure she was not; she made me take nasty physic, and she would have kept me in the nursery to-day, if I had not cried and screamed until you sent for me."- Nonsense, nonsense!" exclaimed the weak mother, ashamed at the evidence of her child, and appearing confused by the manifest proofs of her false affection. I had witnessed sufficient to be completely disgusted; for I am one of those sober beings who would have every child act as one without falling into the pettishness of a wayward baby, who cries and knows no better; and whilst each is rewarded for its infantile virtues, I should still expect and wish to see it evincing the modest retiring graces of youth. The conduct of Sophia and her mother were so very uncongenial to my taste, that I took the first opportunity of retiring to my apartment. When in solitude I reflected upon what I had witnessed; the anger I had previously allowed myself to feel against the little girl, was exchanged into pity for her and a species of contempt towards her mother; for it was, indeed, evident that the latter, in having abused a valuable blessing, was far the most culpable. Sophia is one of those children that possess strong talents, quick feelings, and fine abilities; qualities, which, with proper attention, might have been so improved as to have rendered her a valuable and useful member of society; but now, with a mind uncultivated, these exquisite endowments have sunk into a mere nothing her feelings, uncorrected, have risen into a violent and untamed temper, and her superior abilities are completely : buried in pride and vanity. How much is laid to the unna. tural mother's account! unnatural in her very indulgent fondness; for whilst she is busied in satisfying the temporal wants of her child, its eternal interests are overlooked. I would that, from this slight and imperfect sketch, the parent who chances to glance an eye over it contents would be brought not only to confess the irreparable injury a child receives by false indulgence, but to act up to its avowal; for sense, prudence, religion, all declaim against such fondness. Can the child when she arrives at maturity, when she finds herself hurried forward by the vehemence of her passions from one wrong step to another,can she respect the mother who took no pains to irradicate the evil? will she not rather blame the misjudging weakness which made no exertion to render her amiable? and will she not likewise in every trial, return for her deluded mother's caresses bitter taunts and reproaches! Oh! ye miserably disappointed parents, weep not, curse not the unpropitious stars; remember that having sown no seed you are not licensed to look forward to any harvest; the ensuing hours of sorrow are the just retribution of a false indulgence; and years of misery must be the sad, yet expected, return of your blind infatuation. God, in his infinite mercy, has placed us here to prepare ourselves for a better world; he gives us hopes of eternal happiness; and to render our abode on earth more palatable, he calls forth our tenderest sympathy and affection by blessing us with the sweetest ties of nature in parents, children, and partners for life. Shall we then ungratefully convert the blessing into a curse, and instead of rearing our offspring in the paths of goodness and piety, indulge their wayward humours, and allow their evil passions to take the lead? It is not the temporal consequences alone which are to be feared, for on the last awful day of judgment, when each shall be summoned to render up his long account, what shall the deluded parent say in extenuation of his guilt, when God shall ask of him the talents committed to his care? Will false sensibility, or a child's tears and entreaties be accepted as a sufficient palliation for the eternal ruin of a soul? Let those who feel themselves hurried forward by this dangerous species of affection, reflect, ere they nurse the germ of passion into maturity, that the consequences may be fatal both to their charge and themselves here and hereafter; for surely a parent is not displaying affection when he thus risks the eternal welfare of his child.-Let the words of Solomon then be impressed in the memory of every guardian of youth, "He that spareth the rod, hateth his son; but he that loveth him, chasteneth him betimes."-And again, "Chasten thy son while there is hope, and let not thy soul spare for his crying." THE LITTLE SHEPHERDESS. IN ILLUSTRATION OF A PICTURE BY R. WFSTALL, R. A. BY MISS M. LFAI HES BEEVOR. Here hath the young sweet Spirit of the Wild, Haunting, in guise, a lovely, lowly CHILD, Her guileless and most quiet court are sheep, Those blessed nat'ral things, round all which keep Yea, air, with its wing'd denizens, the green And singing waters, bless their shepherd queen, All things have life and motion, sound and sense, And sympathy, to her; All, with young passion, holy, yet inteuse, As measureless, for all things, is her love, But, to star, flow'r, lamb, dog, and plaining dove, Deem not, the pow'rs to her rapt spirit giv'n, Thron'd here, that "little one," with earth and heav'n Holds mystic colloquy : Voice, amid the great world's din, unheard Sigh, to the lonely child; Whose soul, by nature's beautiful is stirr'd, As by her dark and wild! Peace! and stand off!-e'en now her fawn-like eye Arouse her not! tho' waking, many dreams MIND, hath a wider range, than folly deems, Holy and blessed child! companion meet The SHEPHERD good" himself, her ready feet That God who writes his oracles in suns, Whose will and word, he aye may read who runs, That GOD who hearkeneth to unfeign'd prayer O beautiful! O saintly child! her face Be her's sweet dreams,-long summer days of grace, Great Marlow, Bucks. |