"I saw one of the Boys standing in the corner for punishment."
"Yes, madam; but I am afraid there will not be many to go."
I looked out of the corner of my eye, and saw that the poor little orphans were gazing eagerly at me; and rapping on the desk, so as to command perfect silence, I began, in a very grave tone, this speech:
"My dear children, there is one thing I want you to believe, before I say another word, and that is, that I love you."
I stopped and looked round. Oh, what glances of affection came from those orphans' eyes! and one little bit of a boy, who had been made to sit on the floor close by the teacher's desk, because the boy next him had tickled him and made him laugh out loud at prayers—this little fellow put up his hand and smoothed my dress. I took his little fat fingers in mine, and went on:
"Yes, I love you dearly. I don't expect you to be perfect children, because no one is always good; but I want you to think, how kind your Father in Heaven has been to you, to place you here; instead of allowing you to wander about the streets, learning to lie and steal, and use wicked words. The least you can do, is to try—mind, I say 'try'—to be good and obedient. You all know that many of the greatest men in this country were poor boys, with not half the advantages you have here. There is nothing to prevent any one of you boys from some day becoming the President of the United States; there is nothing to prevent you all becoming what is far higher—that is, Christian gentlemen. But for the present, what do you think, both boys and girls, about behaving so well as to deserve an excursion to Central Park?"
A tremendous cheer followed this question, and then I went on: "Well, if you are good for two weeks, you shall go. In the mean time, I wish to see ten of you boys (I won't tell their names before the rest) next Friday in the little recitation room. I shall have something particular to say to them, and I do hope they will be such very good boys from this time to then, that what I shall say will be very pleasant; and now three cheers for Central Park."
The children made a tremendous noise; for that was what they liked to do: and I went out laughing and nodding at them.
Then I got a sheet of paper, and wrote in great letters, quite an inch long, "Central Park for Good Children;" and carrying it into the school room, I pasted it in a conspicuous place, so that all disposed to be naughty might be constantly reminded of this delightful reward for good conduct; and then I said, "Good-by, girls and boys;" and they shouted back, "Good-by, Aunt Fanny," and I left them.
The next Friday, I went again to the Orphan's Home; I had prayed for my ten naughty boys every night, and I made up my mind to be very gentle and kind to them. I took a copy of the "Independent Newspaper" with me, in which was an excellent story; the very thing to read to them. It was called "New-Year's Resolutions," and was signed "I. G. O." I wish I knew the author, so that I could thank her for writing it.[3]