Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1881-07-17
SPARE THE ROD.

| OF mOrallStS a lamentatlOn over the decllne
of strict family government in this count
ry and dismal foreboding of the deluge
of wickedness, chaos and destruction
which is to result from sparlng the rod.
Both the lamentation and prophecy are
idle. The age does what is right in its
own eyes, and very justly; its collective
wisdom Is surely more worthy OF trust
than are the opinions of single individ-
uals; is more likely to have more breadth,
| heighth and depth to meet all the multi
form exigencies of the case than are the
views and theories of isolated persons.
| Barbarous methods may do well in bar
barous times; the great evil is in continu-
i ing them by force of blind obedience to
tradition long after its fitness has ceased.
A striking illustration of this is given by
a writer in New Yotk paper, which we
commend to the attention of believers OF
! the rod:
! A father in New England town had a
/ son; little, large-headed boy of nervous
/! intensity, with eyes of startling wonder,
and long eyelashes, which started like
his fawnllke eyes with quick apprehen-
sion and timidity; boy who played with
all intensity, kept doing something all
! day long without the power to rest,
walked off alone, and even when alone
spoke with himself, chased the geese with
/ little legs as lean and swift, and at the
table eating his meals could not sit very
still, nor bear to sit all the morning in
church hearing the sermon, because his
heart was too rapid in his narrow little
chest, where every rib could be counted
against his tender flesh and skin. In the
the morning he was awake at the earliest
light; at even his tired nature yielded to
the deep sleep of exhaustion. His mother
feared that she could never raise him to
be a man; his father thought he was too
! long becoming man in gravity, sobriety
and formal obedience.
"What ails my SOM" the father sternly
asked. "He is rattle and with
out stability. 1 fear for him. Do you
chastise HIM enough? Spare not the rod
lest he should grow beyond you and your
rule"
"Alas!" exclaimed the mother, che has
his little world we cannot see, perhaps
He is growing and sensitive. The doctor
says we must not push him at his studies,
but let him play all he can, until his frame
is equal to his BRAIN
The father shook his head and spoke
sternly to the boy, and feared he was 60
ing to give them all trouble growing up
so seldom moulded and restrained.
All day the little boy was doing some
thing, carrying the cat by the tail, carry
ing the dog under his arm, making pic
lures on paper of engines and steamboats,
rnd Indians and bellows.
ale will be an artist said his mother,
hopefully.
"He will spoil the library" exclaimed
the father, suspiciously.
Antagonism grew up between the faith
er and the boy, born, on the boys part of
fear; on the fathers, of criticism and
severity The boy ran to his mother and
asked her protection from his fathers
suspecting eye. The father feared his
wife was spelling the son with mistaken
generosity and allowance. At times the
fathers habitual suspicion broke away
like the clouds above hard, humid Britain,
and he laid his rigorous books of theology
down to take his boy walking, and they
grew a little nearer. Then again the
father observed some voluptuous ten
dency in the son which started his fears
anew, some taste for worldly, passing
modes and joys.
"Wife," said he, edo you ever give our
boy money!"
IA little" she said; ga few pennies to
| buy drawing materials and colors; he will
be an artist think"
Money" exclaimed the sire, sis the
root of every evil. You had better give
him fire or poison. He will become a
wild, ruined spendthrift."
| The idea that the wife gave the child
money operated in the fathers head like
jealousy or revenge; it tinted everything
about his son's conduct, and he believed
his wife had deliberately set to work
to indulge her child at the expense of
| his soul.
One morning, thinking of such things;
the father lay awake in bed and gentle
noise disturbed him. The sun was near
| ly up, though it was scarcely 5 o'clock,
and the little boy in his nightgown steal
| ing along the floor toward the foot of his
fathers bed. Lying perfectly still, with
eyes almost closed, the father saw that
small, large headed child, unable perhaps
to sleep, yet careful not to awake his par
ents, turn an eye of timid covetousness
upon his fatner's trousers and vest hang
ing upon nail. He glanced sharply to-
ward his father to see if he was quite
asleep, and then swiftly, like little bird
hoped upon chair and ran his lean
white fingers into his fathers vest
pocket.
"Ha!" thought the father "My son in
my pockets by stealth, before am awake
and initiating the bad example of my
wife, who often, perhaps, searches un-
authoriZedly there!"
| AS he said this dreadful idea crossed
his mind. The son, spoiled by his moth
ers indulgence, already corrupted by
spending money, was a thief-a thie1
while yet child? He rose in bed anG
spoke in a voice of thunder:
"Robert, you are stealing my money!
| Horror froze the boy; he dropped from
the chair like cat, and was into hi:
own bed in the next room and covered
his face with the sheets Anguish anC
\ stern resolve possessed at once the faith
er's stricken heart. He had delayed toe
long to chastlse his hayward son, now
gliding into ruin. 1t must be done, hare
though the thought should be. HI
awoke his wife, and, suppressing her re
plies with a. iron will, related the story
of her depraved child.
"Henceforth," he siad, 81 must be thu
magistrate, and mother, instead of you
Robert, come, dress YOURSELF"
He thrust the frightened mother
back The boy fell On his knees, bu