Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1871-12-29
CRUELTY. TO CHsEDRsw.

The mental agonies which children fire.
quently suffer under tho training to
which they are subjected by well meaning
but mistaken parents, arc well illustrated
in the following extracts taken from a
story which Is in course of publication in
the Advance. 1t is written by Sarah Ed
wards Hensbaw:--
shall not linger over the childhood of
Madame Brayton, except so far rs may
servo to illustrate her peculiarly of mental
constitution, and possibly to throw some
light on her after experience.
Her father, Judge Dyer, grave, preoc-
cupied man, was devoted to the duties of
his profession which he loved. His wife
had been his first cousin and died early in
their marriage, leaving their little daugh-
ter, Milicent, then three years old, to his
sole care. lie provided the child with
the best schools, had her duly instructed
in all that girls were required to know,
and there, as he conceived, his duty ended.
If any one told him that life was strange
problem to the child, upon which her mind
was constantly working, and that the great
est puzzle of all to her was herself, he would
have pronounced IL nonsense. So the lone
ly child in his house was ~ much a stran-
ger to him as though they were leagues
apart.
One Of the most singular peculiarities
about children is that they will suffer so
much in silence. 1t is partly, i suppose,
from want cf power of expression and per-
haps, quito as much from a certain dread
of seeming queer" or of losing the good
opinion of tlfeif elders. Many parent
lives with children without having any
real acquaintance with them, and would be
astonshed If told by third party, as a
third party, alas sometimes can tell bet
ter than the parent, what those children
are really thinking and feeling.
l doubt whether this state of things in its
beginning is always the parents fault, but
il Is the parents fault If il is allowed TO
continue. 1t may arise at first uncon-.
sciously to both parties, rs the result of
seething thoughts, iancies, and feelings of
a crude and forming nature, unable to un-
derstand itself. A little wise questioning,
little timely interest, u little tender
watchfulness, from those who have il in
charge, may save a child from life long
suffering, and even from lifelong self
reproach.
One of Judge Dycr's inflexible rules of
family government was that his little
daughter should be put TO bed at certain
hour, alone i'm the dark The house stood
on the brow ola hill, and her room was in
a far of corner of it, overlooking a grave
yard which lay at u little distance below.
The white grave-stones CLEANED out dis
tinctly in the clear, cold moonlight of u
winter night, and looked like an army of
ghosts. How still they stood up together
as il waiting the word to move! Suppose
they should ascend the hill Suppose they
should steal up, and stand around under
her window-real ghosts! and seek to en-
ter in! Suppose they should come silently
trooping up to her room and find her there
alone.
with this weird fancy present to her
mind the poor child was nightly conveyed
to bed and the light duly taken away.
| Then commenced her torture. The winter
| wind howled loudly around the hill, up
| and down it, and athwart the bleak corner
| of the house where lay the listening child
| Its sobs, and walls and means, and
shrieks, seemed to her like the voices of
| the dead, who were marshalng in their
| dreary camping-ground below. Now re-
| treating to distance, seemed to pause,
as II gathering strength for the onset then
| il came on with hollow roar and
mighty rush, nearer, and still nearer, I'M
| til finally it ratified at her windows, and
shrieked to her, as II to say, 'they come!
| they come!
Cold drops stood on the brow oi the an
| guished child. Grotesque. teri iblc faces
| began TO appear in the room. Some had
| eyes of fire, some a face in glowing outline
with eyes of blackness, some Il grinning
| me nth which changed momenty into n
| vet more horrible expression. Again the
| drops of agony covered her this time from
head TO foot, as, clrcling round and round,
| they all gazed and leered at her--at her,
| covering there under the bedclothes.
Around and around-nearer and nearer
| came the faces. The wind ratified and
| raved anew at the windows, hasting up,
hasting down, as searching for an en-
| trance. AT length on horrible face, with
| eyes larger and more fiery the rest,
began to approach. Slowly slowly it
| drew observation-disclosures it look
| ed straight and close into her eyes and
| seemed to touch her.
| 1t was too much; with entreaties for
| light-onlya light-the poor child broke
into sobs and screams.
As this was not an unfrequcnt occur
ence, her father learned to recognize her
voice in the distant part of the house
where he usually sat immersed in law pa
pers. He knew in a moment what ii
meant, for her " fear of the dark" had been
| the subject of many a grave lecture and
reproof. Rising, he rang the bell and or
| cred her to be brought to him. The reluc-
tant nurse obeyed, and the child, all trem-
| bling and convulsed, was set down in her
long, white night robe before the warm,
bright fire, and in the midst of the dear,
cheerful light. II was a transition from
misery to bliss, although she well knew
what was coming.
"Miicent, was that you screaming?"
Yes, sir
"What were you screaming for?"
No answer except great sob.
"What were you screaming for, Mil
| cent"
because ] was afraid, father" and sad
| tears began to run down the sweet, sor-
| rowful face.
"Have I not told you that you must not
be afraid Of the dark / must break you of
| ths'-and here the rod which he held in
| his hand fell twice, thrice, it seemed to her
an endless number of times, aud the cow
| ering child screamed again with the lesser
suffering of physical pain.
"Oh, father! iatherr' she cried, "let
me have light in my room Please do
Only let me have light I"
Her father was not unkind. He was
simply a man who lived by rule. To al
low a child light was foolish indn-
gence foolish indulgence was injurious to
children. So Milicent was sent back to
her darkness and her solitude, and at last
fell asleep from exhaustion.
This was repeated so often that she
learned TO think of night with shudder,
and saw the sun approach its setting with
sinking of heart. She never thought of
speaking of what she endured, nor of con-
fl ding TO any one her vision ofdarkness.
Yet how dire they were TO her may be inn
agined from her declaration in after years,
that she was really glad in her poor suf-
fering child-heart TO be scourged with
rods, that she might for few moments
see light, and be near a human being.
/ cannot help reiterating that if those
who have the care ofchildren would some
times gently question them concerning
their childish inner life, 1t would save
suffering and sometimes even sin. Of
ten wonder at mothers who allow day af-
ter day to find them busily attending to
the external needs of their children, while
to those children's higher wants they are
total strangers. Whole growths of thought
and feeling spring up and go to seed and
SOW still, other harves G in the child's char
acter, and are secretly confided, perhaps,
to Juvenile friends aud to unwise counsel
ors, while the mother does not even sus-
pect their existence. Oh, mothers talk to
your children; invite their confidence.
Never laugh at it when given, no matter
how quaint or absurd its revelations may
be. ReceiYe them with graYilY. trent