"One morning Arthur awoke at his usual hour, but not with his usual smile. His face was all puckered up like a frozen apple. He floundered about the bed, and bumped his head against the head-board, and was just as cross as forty bears.
"Of course every thing went wrong; he put his stockings on wrongside out, tied his shoes in a hard knot, pulled on his pantaloons with the back part before, and drew his arms through his jacket upside down. Did you ever hear of such a piece of work?
"When Mary came to brush his hair and wash his face, he screamed out, stamping his foot at her—'Do stop! Stop! I tell you! You brush me as hard as ever you can! I wish you would leave me alone, you ugly old thing!'
"Oh, dear, dear, what a sad boy! He puts me in mind of that other naughty boy who scolded his nurse in a piece of poetry. This is it:
"'Oh why must my face be washed so clean,
And scrubbed and scoured for Sunday?
When you know very well, as you've always seen,
'Twill be dirty again on Monday.
"'My hair is stiff with the hateful soap,
That behind my ears is dripping;
My smarting eyes, I'm afraid to ope,
And my lips the suds are sipping.
"'They're down my throat, and they're up my nose,
And to choke me you seem to be trying,
That I'll shut my mouth, you needn't suppose,
For how can I keep from crying?
"'And you rub as hard as ever you can,
And your hands are hard, to my sorrow;
No woman shall wash me, when I'm a man,
And I wish I was one to-morrow.'
"But at last Arthur went sulking down to breakfast, forgetting to say his prayers; and taking his seat at the table, whined out, the very first thing—'Just look at this piece of toast; it is all burnt, and as hard as a stone. I won't have it!' Then he tasted his coffee, and exclaimed—'Pooh! what coffee! perfect slops!'
"His mother was grieved to see him acting so naughtily, and said, gently—'I am sorry, Arthur, you are not pleased; will you have an egg?'
"Arthur cracked an egg with his teaspoon, looked at it, threw it down, and turning up his nose with disdain, said—'Eggs! Brickbats you mean! they have been boiling all night.'
"This exhibition of ill temper distressed his mother exceedingly, but she did not say any thing to him then; being a woman of excellent sense, she formed a plan in her mind which she hoped would effect a cure.
"Arthur was an only child. His parents were rich, and they preferred that he should be educated at home; they feared his learning evil as well as good at a large school. Hitherto this plan had been very successful, for Arthur was as studious and obedient as his tutors could possibly wish; and this sudden and sad change made all around him unhappy. I will give you a history of one of these miserable days.