The central Presbyterian. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1856-1908, 1881-11-30
Ghildren's Column.
The Boy who Would not be
Whipped.

l may as we'll tell the boys now that
my mother was a widow, and woman
of great firmness and decision of char
acter, and of deep piety. When she said
anything she meant it, and yet she was
Just as gentle and tender as lamb. One
time in the fall of the year, when l was
about fifteen years old, was out in the
yard trying to move heavy stick of
timber. 1 asked my brother, then twelve
years Of age, to assist, but he stood stock
still and laughed at me, while | almost
strained my eyeballs out of my head.
At last | lost my temper, grew hot, got
mad, and picked up a switch and gave
my brother a whipping. That was one
thing mother did not allow-she did not
permit one child to whip another on her
place. When she heard the row, she
came out of the house and gave brother a
good thrashing, and made him help me
put the timber in place, and then said to
me-
Now, my son, am going to whip you
for whipping your brother"
had not had whipping for long
time, and had begun to feel like man.
In fact, waited on the girls now and
then, and some white downy-looking stuff
had begun to grow upon my chin, and |
felt large over the prospects of beard at
no distant day. The fact is, 1 had got
ten =" too big for my breeches and needed
to be taken down, button hole or two"
had no idea of taking whipping
none in the world. had violated one
of my mothers rules, but the provoca-
ton had been great one to boy. True,
if | had gone five steps to the door, and
told mother, she would have adjusted
matters and made brother do what |
wanted him to do. Instead OF this, | had
assumed authority, had taken the law
into my own hands, and had done what
/ knew my mother did not allow.
said, Mother, you shall not whip
me-"
"But I will do it, my son, she replied,
and started toward me with purpose in
her eye. got out of her way and, bad
boy that l was, | turued my back upon
home and mother, and went on about four
miles and hired myself to clever, thrifty,
well-to-do farmer for FIVE dollars month
/ told him what had occurred, and how
[ had been outraged at home, and that
too, by my mother He told me had
done wrong and that l ought to go back
home, and he proposed to 90 with me,
and intercede for me. / had too much
Of my mother in me to yield Just then.
went to work, but was not happy. l lost
my appetite and could not sleep I grew
worse and worse, but hoped all the time
apologize and take me back " scot free,
but I heard nothing from her. 1 began
to feel that l needed mother and home
IL
me-a lesson most boys do not learn
until it is too late. At the end of the
week, on Saturday morning, [ told my
employer I wanted to go home. He
approved my purpose, and kindly offered
to go with me, but preferred to go alone.
He paid me for my weeks work, but 1
hated the money. 1t felt like lead in my
pocket, and grew heavier and heavier as
I got nearer home, till finally pulled it
out and threw it as far as I could send
it into the woods did not go home in
hurry. 1t was four miles, and l was
four hours on the way-and mortal hours
they were. l hesitated, and turned back,
and resolved and re resolved. The bet
ter thing in me said, GO home, and
yield to your mother, and obey her, but
some other thing said, " l would die
first"
Those who have never been in the
shoes of the Prodigal Son" do not know
what an effort that trip cost the poor
boy, nor how long he was making it.
When felt that could go no further,
l would kneel down and pray. That
always helped me- felt frmer after
wards. The last hundred yrads before l
got home seemed to be mile long. If
it had been night and no lights burning
so mother could not see me, how glad [
would have been; but there it was a
beautiful, sun-bright day in the calm cool
November. Oh, how black the bright
light makes guilty heart look The last
hour before day is said to be darkest
hour.
When I got near enough to hear, moth
er was singing,
Jesus, lover Of my soul,
Let me to thy bosom fly.
All, that song What mingled feelings
it stirred in my heart, and how appro-
pirate it was. Hope and shame had
struggle, but, thank God, hope prevailed
just as l reached the kitchen door where
mother was setting the table for dinner.
Good morning, my son" she said