"'Perhaps they are, my son; but they have no reason, while we are capable of controlling our impatience, and governing our passions, if we ask God to help us.'
"Upon this Arthur fairly broke down; and, bursting into tears, sobbed out—'Oh, dear mamma, I understand the lesson I have received from every one to-day. Do believe that I will try with all my strength to conquer my ill temper: I promise you. Do, please mamma, forgive me.'
"His mother wound her loving arms around her son, and tenderly kissed him, and said—'I forgive you, my dear child, with all my heart, and we will both pray to our Heavenly Father to send down His Holy Spirit to guide and direct your efforts to do right. You have borne your disappointments to-day with patience and resignation; and I feel that you will soon be the good, sweet-tempered boy, you were a year ago.'
"Arthur kept his promise, and whenever he was tempted to give a cross answer, or get in a passion, he was sure to remember in time the celebrated day when everybody, by his mother's instructions, attempted his cure, by showing him, in their own persons, the unlovely consequences of indulging in
ill temper."
"What a nice story!" exclaimed the children, "and what a good way of curing Arthur—better than a hundred whippings. When we do any thing bad, mamma, you must punish us Aunt Fanny's way. Couldn't you punish us for something now?"
The little mother laughed at this comical request, and said—"I can't think of any thing just now to punish you for; and I hope you don't want to do any thing naughty on purpose."
"O dear, no!" cried the children, but George, with a good-humored twinkle in his eye, added—"At any rate, mamma, the next time Harry puts salt into the sugar-bowl, and makes me spoil my coffee, I intend to put powdered sugar into the salt-cellar for him to sprinkle over his stewed oysters."
"Oh, do!" cried all the children; "only think of oysters and sugar! perfectly dreadful!"