The Iron Rule | Page 5

out in the face of all
consequences. Deeply saddened was she at this conviction, for she well
knew that obedience to parents is the good ground into which the seeds
of civil and religious obedience in manhood must be sown.
As for herself, Mrs. Howland had no objection to little Emily Winters
as the companion of Andrew. She was, as the boy said, a good girl, and
her influence over him was for good. But the stern prejudice of Mr.
Howland had come in to break up the friendship formed between the
children, and his inflexible will would brook no opposition. All must
bend to him, even at the risk of breaking.
Nearly half an hour did Mrs. Howland pass alone with her boy, striving
to awaken the better impulses of his heart, and as they became active,
seeking to implant in his mind a willingness to deny himself, in order to
obey his father. But the father asked too much. There was no charge of
evil against Emily as a reason for this interdiction. All the mother could
say, was--
"It is your father's wish and command, my child, and you must obey
him."
But this could not satisfy the boy's mind in a case where his feelings
were so deeply interested. At length, Mrs. Howland turned to leave the
room. Andrew followed her to the door, and looking up with a sad light
in his large eyes, murmured--
"I do love you, mother!"

A tear fell upon his face as his mother stooped to kiss him. A little
while after, and he was alone.
"I'm afraid," said Mrs. Howland, joining her husband soon after, "that
we have done wrong in prohibiting all intercourse between Andrew and
little Emily Winters."
"Why so?" was quickly asked, and in no very pleasant tone of voice.
"The children are very much attached to each other."
"That is no reason."
"It would be no reason if there was anything bad about Emily. But there
is not. She is a very good little girl."
"I'm not so sure of that," said Mr. Howland.
"I never saw anything out of the way in her."
"It's more than I can say of her father, then," was replied. "There lies
my chief objection. I want no intercourse between the families, and do
not mean to have any. In this I am entirely in earnest. Andrew must
seek another playfellow."
"I'm afraid we will have a great deal of trouble," sighed Mrs. Howland.
"I am not, then. Let me know whenever he disobeys in this matter, and
I'll apply the remedy in a way to cure him. His will has to be broken,
and the present occasion is as good as any other for effecting so
all-important an object. The stronger he is tempted to disobey, the more
effectual will be the subjugation of his will, when the conquest is
made."
It was useless for Mrs. Howland to argue with her husband. He never
yielded the smallest assent to any reasons she might bring, nor to any
position she might assume. So, with a pressure on her heart, and a clear
perception in her mind that he was wrong, she heard these last words in
silence.

"Shall I call Andrew down?" asked the mother, as the tea-bell rung,
soon after.
"No," replied Mr. Howland, firmly; "I wish him to understand that I am
in earnest."
"Don't you think he has been punished sufficiently?" said Mrs.
Howland, timidly.
"Of course I do not, or I would remit the penalty of transgression,"
coldly returned her husband. "He's a stubborn, self-willed boy, and
must be made to feel that he has a master."
"Kindness and persuasion often does--"
"I will hear no more of that!" quickly returned Mr. Howland; "and I
wish you, once for all, to understand, Esther, that I will not consent to
an interference on your part with what I believe to be my duty.
Thousands of children have been ruined by this weak kindness and
persuasion, but this shall never be the case with mine."
Mr. Howland did not observe that his wife caught her breath, as he
uttered the first few words of his harsh report. She made no further
answer, but passed on with her husband to the tea-room. But she ate
nothing. Dreamily rested her eyes on vacancy, as she sat at the table.
Her mind took no note of images pictured on the retina, for her
thoughts were in another place, and with her inner vision she saw the
sad form of her wronged and suffering child shrinking in the lone
chamber where he had been banished.
"Shall I take Andrew some supper?" she asked, as she arose, at length,
from the table.
"He can have some bread and water," was coldly and briefly answered.