The Child at Home | Page 3

unkind and wicked as she finally became.
But if you begin as she began, by trifling disobedience, and little acts of unkindness, you
may soon be as wicked as she, and make your parents as unhappy as is her poor
broken-hearted mother.

Persons never become so very wicked all at once. They go on from step to step, in
disobedience and ingratitude, till they lose all feeling, and can see their parents weep, and
even die in their grief, without a tear.
Perhaps, one pleasant day, this mother sent her little daughter to school. She took her
books, and walked along, admiring the beautiful sunshine, and the green and pleasant
fields. She stopped one moment to pick a flower, again to chase a butterfly, and again to
listen to a little robin, pouring out its clear notes upon the bough of some lofty tree. It
seemed so pleasant to be playing in the fields, that she was unwilling to go promptly to
school. She thought it would not be very wrong to play a little while. Thus she
commenced. The next day she ventured to chase the butterflies farther, and to rove more
extensively through the field in search of flowers. And as she played by the pebbles in the
clear brook of rippling water, she forgot how fast the time was passing. And when she
afterwards hastened to school, and was asked why she was so late, to conceal her fault
she was guilty of falsehood, and said that her mother wanted her at home. Thus she
advanced, rapidly in crime. Her lessons were neglected. She loved the fields better than
her book, and would often spend the whole morning idle, under the shade of some tree,
when her mother thought her safe in school. Having thus become a truant and a deceiver,
she was prepared for any crimes. Good children would not associate with her, and
consequently she had to choose the worst for her companions and her friends. She
learned wicked language; she was rude and vulgar in her manners; she indulged
ungovernable passion; and at last grew so bad, that when her family afterwards removed
to the city, the House of Correction became her ignominious home. And there she is now,
guilty and wretched. And her poor mother, in her solitary dwelling, is weeping over her
daughter's disgrace. Who can comfort such a mother? Where is there any earthly joy to
which she can look?
Children generally do not think how much the happiness of their parents depends upon
their conduct. But you now see how very unhappy you can make them. And is there a
child who reads this book, who would be willing to be the cause of sorrow to his father
and his mother? After all they have done for you, in taking care of you when an infant, in
watching over you when sick, in giving you clothes to wear, and food to eat, can you be
so ungrateful as to make them unhappy? You have all read the story of the kind man, who
found a viper lying upon the ground almost dead with cold. He took it up and placed it in
his bosom to warm it, and to save its life. And what did that viper do? He killed his
benefactor! Vile, vile reptile! Yes! as soon as he was warm and well, he stung the bosom
of his kind preserver, and killed him.
But that child, is a worse viper, who, by his ingratitude, will sting the bosoms of his
parents; who, by disobedience and unkindness, will destroy their peace, and thus
dreadfully repay them for all their love and care. God will not forget the sins of such a
child. His eye will follow you to see your sin, and his arm will reach you to punish. He
has said, Honor your father and your mother. And the child who does not do this, must
meet with the displeasure of God, and must be for ever shut out from heaven. Oh, how
miserable must this wicked girl now be, locked up in the gloomy prison! But how much
more miserable will she be when God calls her to account for all her sins!--when, in the
presence of all the angels, the whole of her conduct is brought to light, and God says to

her, "Depart from me, ye cursed!" As she goes away from the presence of the Lord, to the
gloomy prisons of eternal despair, she will then feel a degree of remorse which I cannot
describe to you. It is painful to think of it. Ah, wretched, wretched girl! Little are you
aware of the woes you are preparing for yourself. I hope that no child who reads these
pages will ever feel these woes.
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