The Child at Home: The Principles of Filial Duty, Familiarly Illustrated

by John S. C. Abbott

III. You will lose all fondness for the enjoyment of home, and will be in great danger of growing up a dissipated and a worthless man.

Now, are not these reasons sufficient to induce your parents to guard you against such temptations? But perhaps you say, Other parents let their children go out and play as much as they please every evening. How grateful, then, ought you to be, that you have parents who are so kind and faithful that they will preserve you from these occasions of sin and sorrow! They love you too well to be willing to see you preparing for an unhappy and profitless life.

It not unfrequently is the case that a girl has young associates, who are in the habit of walking without protectors in the evening twilight. On the evening of some lovely summer's day, as the whole western sky is blazing with the golden hue of sunset, her companions call at her door, to invite her to accompany them upon an excursion of pleasure. She runs to her parents with her heart bounding with joy, in anticipation of the walk. They inquire into the plans of the party, and find that it will be impossible for them to return from their contemplated expedition before the darkness of the evening shall come. As affectionate and faithful parents, they feel that it is not proper or safe for them to trust their little daughter in such a situation. They, consequently, cannot consent that she should go. She is disappointed in the extreme, and as she sees her friends departing, social and happy, she retires to her chamber and weeps. The momentary disappointment to her is one of the severest she can experience, and she can hardly help feeling that her parents are cruel, to deprive her of so much anticipated pleasure. Her companions go away with the same feelings. They make many severe remarks, and really think that this little girl's parents are unkind. Perhaps they have a pleasant walk, and all return home in safety; and for many days they talk together at school of the delightful enjoyments of that evening. And this increases the impression on the mind of the little girl, that it was unkind in her parents not to let her go.

But, perhaps, as they were returning, they met a drunken man, who staggered in amongst them. Terrified, they scatter and run. One, in endeavoring to jump over a fence, spoils her gown. Another, fleeing in the dark, falls, and sadly bruises her face. Another, with loss of bonnet, and with dishevelled hair, gains the door of her home. And thus is this party, commenced with high expectations of joy, terminated with fright and tears. The parents of the little girl who remained at home, knew that they were exposed to all this; and they loved their daughter too well to allow her to be placed in such a situation. Was it not kind in them?

Perhaps, as they were returning, they met some twenty or more of the rudest boys of the village, in the midst of their most exciting sports. Here are Emma, Maria, and Susan, with their party of timid girls, who must force their way through this crowd of turbulent and noisy boys. It is already dark. Some of the most unmannerly and wicked boys of the village are there assembled. They are highly excited with their sports. And the moment they catch a view of the party of girls, they raise a shout, and rush in among them reckless and thoughtless. The parents of the little girl who staid at home, knew that she would be exposed to such scenes; and as they loved their daughter, they could not consent that she should go. Was it not kind?

A few young girls once went on such an evening walk, intending to return before it was dark. But in the height of their enjoyment they forgot how rapidly the time was passing, and twilight leaving them. But, at last, when they found how far they were from home, and how dark it was growing, they became quite alarmed, and hastened homeward. They, however, got along very well while they were all together. But when it became necessary for them to separate, to go to their respective homes, and several of them had to go alone in the darkness, they felt quite terrified. It was necessary for one of these little girls, after she had left all her companions, to go nearly a quarter of a mile. She set out upon the run, her heart beating with fear. She had not proceeded far, however, before she heard the loud shouts of a mob of young men and boys, directly in the street through which she must pass. As she drew nearer, the shouts and laughter grew louder and more appalling. She hesitated. But what could she do? She must go on. Trembling, she endeavored to glide through the crowd, when a great brutal boy, with a horrid mask on his face and a "jack-o'lantern" in his hand, came up before her. He threw the glare of the light upon her countenance, and stared her full in the face. "Here is my wife," said he, and tried to draw her arm into his. A loud shout from the multitude of boys echoed through the darkened air. Hardly knowing what she did, she pressed through the crowd, and, breathless with fright, arrived at her home. And I will assure you she did not wish to take any more evening walks without a protector. From that time afterwards she was careful to be under her father's roof before it was dark.

Now can you think that your father or mother are unkind, because they are unwilling to have you placed in such a situation? And when they are doing all that they can to make you happy, ought you not to be grateful, and by a cheerful countenance, and ready obedience, to try to reward them for their love?

It is the duty of all children to keep in mind that their parents know what is best. And when they refuse to gratify your wishes, you should remember that their object is to do you good. That obedience which is prompt and cheerful, is the only obedience which is acceptable to them, or well-pleasing to God. A great many cases will occur in which you will wish to do that which your parents will not approve. If you do not, in such cases, pleasantly and readily yield to their wishes, you are ungrateful and disobedient.

Neither is it enough that you should obey their expressed commands. You ought to try to do every thing which you think will give them pleasure, whether they tell you to do it or not. A good child will seek for opportunities to make his parents happy. A little girl, for instance, has some work to do. She knows that if she does it well and quick, it will gratify her mother. Now, if she be a good girl; she will not wait for her mother's orders, but will, of her own accord, improve her time, that she may exhibit the work to her mother sooner and more nicely done than she expected.

Perhaps her mother is sick. Her affectionate daughter will not wait for her mother to express her wishes. She will try to anticipate them. She will walk softly around the chamber, arranging every thing in cheerful order. She will adjust the clothes of the bed, that her mother may lie as comfortably as possible. And she will watch all her mother's movements, that she may learn what things she needs before she asks for them. Such will be the conduct of an affectionate and obedient child. I was once called to see a poor woman who was very sick. She was a widow, and in poverty. Her only companion and only earthly reliance was her daughter. As I entered the humble dwelling of this poor woman, I saw her bolstered up in the bed, with her pale countenance emaciated with pain, and every thing about the room proclaiming the most abject poverty. Her daughter sat sewing at the head of the bed, watching every want of her mother, and active with her needle. The perfect neatness of the room, told how faithful was the daughter in the discharge of her painful and arduous duties. But her own slender form and consumptive countenance showed that by toil and watching she was almost worn out herself. This noble girl, by night and by day, with unwearied attention, endeavored to alleviate the excruciating pains of her afflicted parent. I could not look upon her but with admiration, in seeing the devotedness with which she watched every movement of her mother. How many wealthy parents would give all they possess, to be blessed with such a child! For months this devoted girl had watched around her mother by night and by day, with a care which seemed never to be weary. You could see by the movement of her eye, and by the expression of her countenance, how full her heart was of sympathy. She did not wait for her mother to tell her what to do, but was upon the watch all the time to find out what would be a comfort to her. This is what I call obedience. It is that obedience which God in heaven approves and loves.