“Ah, yes, that must be it,” acquiesced Lady Augusta. “And yet—I don’t know,” she rejoined, doubtingly. “Do you believe that so very much lies in the training?”
“It does, indeed, Lady Augusta. God’s laws everywhere proclaim it. Take a rough diamond from a mine—what is it, unless you polish it, and cut it, and set it? Do you see its value, its beauty, in its original state? Look at the trees of our fields, the flowers and fruits of the earth—what are they, unless they are pruned and cared for? It is by cultivation alone that they can be brought, to perfection. And, if God so made the productions of the earth, that it is only by our constant attention and labour that they can be brought to perfection, would He, think you, have us give less care to that far more important product, our children’s minds? They may be trained to perfectness, or they may be allowed to run to waste from neglect.”
“Oh dear!” sighed Lady Augusta. “But it is a dreadful trouble, always to be worrying over children.”
“It is a trouble that, in a very short time after entering upon it, grows into a pleasure,” said Mrs. Channing. “I am sure that there is not a mother, really training her children to good, who will not bear me out in the assertion. It is a pleasure that they would not be without. Take it from them, and the most delightful occupation of their lives is gone. And think of the reward! Were there no higher end to be looked for, it would be found in the loving obedience of the children. You talk of the trouble, Lady Augusta: those who would escape trouble with their children should be careful how they train them.”
“I think I’ll begin at once with mine,” exclaimed Lady Augusta, brightening up.
A smile crossed Mrs. Channing’s lips, as she slightly shook her head. None knew better than she, that training, to bear its proper fruit, must be begun with a child’s earliest years.
Meanwhile, the proctor was holding a conference with Mr. Channing. “Presents seem to be the order of the day,” he was remarking, in allusion to sundry pretty offerings which had been made to Constance. “I think I may as well contribute my mite—”
“Why, you have done it! You gave her a bracelet, you know,” cried Miss Annabel. For which abrupt interruption she was forthwith consigned to a distance; and ran away, to be teased by Tom and Gerald.
“I have something in my pocket which I wish to give to Arthur; which I have been intending for some time to give him,” resumed Mr. Galloway, taking from his pocket what seemed to be a roll of parchment. “Will you accept them, Arthur?”
“What, sir?”