HERE is a word, my son, a very little word, in the English language, the right use of which it is all-important that you should learn," said Mr. Howland to his son Thomas, who was about leaving the paternal roof for a residence in a distant city; never again, perchance, to make one of the little circle that had so long gathered in the family homestead.
"What word is that, father?" asked Thomas.
"It is the little word No, my son."
"And why does so much importance attach to that word, father?"
"Perhaps I can make you understand the reason much better if I relate an incident that occurred when I was a boy. I remember it as distinctly as if it had taken place but yesterday, although thirty years have since passed. There was a neighbour of my father's, who was very fond of gunning and fishing. On several occasions I had accompanied him, and liked it very much. One day my father said,—
"'William, I do not wish you to go into the woods or on the water again with Mr. Jones.'
"'Why not, father?' I asked, for I had become so fond of going with him, that to be denied the pleasure was a real privation.
"'I have good reasons for not wishing you to go, William,' my father replied, 'but do not want to give them now. I hope it is all-sufficient for you that your father desires you not to accompany Mr. Jones again.'
"I could not understand why my father laid upon me this prohibition; and, as I desired much to go, I did not feel satisfied in my obedience. On the next day, as I was walking in the fields, I met Mr. Jones with his fishing-rod on his shoulder and his basket in hand.