462 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



he had noticed how fully Mr. Norton's fruit trees 

 had blown. 



"Well, I believe I saw them, or heard some one 

 speak of it. But I am tired." 



"Yes, I think you must be ; you've worked hard 

 all day." 



"I have worked like a dog, and what does it 

 amount to ?" 



"Do you think," said his wife, "considering we 

 have to work so hard and hire so much help, that 

 it is for your interest to keep all the land?" 



"Think — I don't think any thing about it. I've 

 got it, and I must take care of it. I should look 

 well spending what has' so long been in the fami-j 

 ly. As long as property is in land it is safe; but: 

 change it into money, or any thing else, and teni 

 to one 'tis soon gone, nobody knows where." 



"Perhaps you are right; but it seems to me j 

 you could take much better care of less, make it 

 more profitable, and at the same time relieve your- 

 self of this care and anxiety, which I fear is wear- 

 ing upon you. And then you know William is 

 slender. I don't think he'll ever be able to work 

 as hard as you have done." 



"He never will, if he is brought up to think he 

 is too good to work. He has notions in his head 

 now that I fancy will do him no good. You have 

 been over to Norton's this afternoon. I suppose 

 his wife advised you what was best for us to do. — 

 Why, Betsey, can't you see through it all ? They 

 have been and sold half of their farm, and laid out 

 the money in trees and I don't know what all, — 

 sent the boys to school instead of teaching them 

 to work, and so she wants us to do the same. — 

 Ha! ha! misery likes company. The long and] 

 short of it is, Betsey, Mrs. Norton wanted to get) 

 rid of work. I wish they had sold the whole con-j 

 cern and cleared out, for I see plainly you norj 

 William can go over there but it bewitches you. i 

 No — you never will see me covering my land, or 

 surrounding my house with boughten trees. If I 

 had time I should like well enough to set out a 

 maple or something near the house. I should like 

 one or two for the horses to stand under, but I 

 haven't the time, neither do I think it best to en- 

 courage any such notions in the boy. You know 

 how it is — 'if you give an inch they'll take an ell.' 

 He begged hard for us to dig up a larch this after- 

 noon, but indulgence will spoil any child. If I 

 had done that for him, why he would only have 

 wanted more, and if he got too many such notions, 

 why he is headstrong, and the first we should 

 know he would be off like others we know of. No; 

 the only way to get along with children is to be 

 strict; no arguing with them, and no giving way 

 to their foolish wants." 



"Do you think it was indulgence that made 

 George White go to New York ? I don't know 

 but what it might be, his mother was dreadful 

 careful of him." 



"I should like to know what 'tis makes boys 

 reave their fathers' homes and farms and go off to 

 the city, and barely get their board, if itis'nt let- 

 ting them have their will and way." 



"I have no doubt that over indulgence begets 

 self-will, and overcomes a child's sense of duty, so 

 that restraint is thrown off, and parental obliga- 

 tion disregarded; but husband, 1 do believe one 

 tiling, and that is, if we wish Willey to love his 

 home, we must make it happy; if we wish his 

 war. nest affections to cluster around this place, 



we must make it attractive. You think the Nor- 

 ton boys are. indulged too much, but this indul- 

 gence is nothing more than a desire on the pa- 

 rents' part, judiciously carried out, to make them 

 useful and happy. And I believe they take the 

 right course. No children love their home better 

 than they do. Mrs. N. tells me that it is with 

 the greatest reluctance that they leave home in 

 the vacation, to visit their cousins in the city." 



"Well, well, don't say any more, for I have as 

 much as I can do to get through the day's work, 

 and I for one want to sleep in the night ! Mrs. 

 Norton is welcome to her notions and I will have 

 mine !" 



While Mr. G. is wrapped in the "sweet sleep 

 of the laboring man," and Mrs. G. is revolving in 

 her own mind the many different plans which sug- 

 gest themselves to a mother's ever watchful heart, 

 for the good of her boy, let us take a peep at the 

 character of both parents and child. 



Had a stranger inquired of almost any one in X. , 

 "what sort of a man is Mr. Gove?" the answer 

 would probably be to this effect : "Fine man, sir, 

 upright, honest, and firm ; trifles don't move him, 

 sir." Granted — but let us see if there can be, 

 with these good qualities, nothing wanting. 



Mr. G. was stern ; in his view, the ''smoothing 

 over''' of an affair was never advisable. Billy, as 

 a child, had much to contend with in the way of 

 passion, pride and self-will ; like almost all chil- 

 dren occasional acts of thoughtlessness and hasty 

 impulse led him into error and its painful conse- 

 quences. Had his father been careful to "do jus- 

 tice to his better qualities, while at the same time 

 he blamed and convinced him of his faults," all 

 might have been well ; but Mr. G. never met his 

 errors in "love and conquered them by forgive- 

 ness." Unjust harshness actually confirmed him 

 in error. Mr. G. was spoken of as a generous 

 man, but to use the beautiful language of one de- 

 parted, "There are those who are lavish in atten- 

 tion and presents to friends, but who never imag- 

 ine that their own home circle has the first and 

 strongest claim to kindness, whether of word or 

 deed. Affections and thoughts lavished on com- 

 parative strangers, never radiate on home ; but 

 when given to home first, they shed light and 

 kindliness for and near." Mr. G. never won the 

 heart of his child. How was it with the mother ? 

 She possessed the rare combination of "gentle- 

 ness with firmness, submissiveness with dignity." 

 Her anxious desire was to do justice to his better 

 feelings, and while she wished to educate his 

 mind, she was more anxious that his heart should 

 be won and taught. 



But little change, outwardly, was visible in the 

 Gove family when William had reached his eigh- 

 teenth year. The homestead remained the same 

 — save some marks which "Time's effacing lin- 

 gers" had not failed to make. The "ash tree," 

 by the spring, was gone, and the maple "for the 

 horse to stand under" had never been "set out." 



One fine morning in May, William asked his 

 father if he might have the sorrel horse to go to 

 the village adjoining. Permission was giten on 

 condition that he would return before dinner. 

 Dinner came, and with it came William. 



"What has our William been doing?" exclaimed 

 Mr. Gove, as he gave a hasty glance at the window. 

 "Cutting a wagon load of withes !" 





