Mexico weekly ledger., 1884-08-28
JOB PRINTING.
ALI KINDS OF JOB PRINTING
EXECUTED IN THE
LATEST AND BEST STYLE
AND AT THE
VERY LOWEST LIVING RATES.
WI GUARANTEE FIssT-cIAss WORK


leading fretful, s'hang back boy,
entered the dining-room. Nearly ev-
cry man looked up, although the wo-
man and the boy made no noise. for
men possess strange intuition con-
cerning spoiled children, and seem to
feel the soundless footsteps Of one.
The boy was deposited in the high
chair" and the woman in a WEAKNESS
Of expression, showing the loss Of
sleep and the midnight march around
the room, smoothed back the young
ster's hair and asked what he would
have.
Don't want nothin'," trying to
shove his chair from the table.
"Why, son, you said you wanted
something to eat"
mo, didn't"
"You must not talk that way"
"Yes, will. don't want that
taking up his plate and throwing off a
piece Of meat.
'What do you want, them"
"Want some 'zerves."
"You should not eat preserves the
first thing. Want mamma to break
your egg in glass!"
"Yessum."
She arranged the egg, being very
careful to use the proper amount Of
salt and butter.
81 don't want il" showing it away.
''Eat the egg, son.
81 don't want it," upseiting the
glass.
81 ought to spank you for that"
'I should say So" muttered
drummer.
''fd like to get my hands on him.
an old maid said in an undertone,
while another woman and another
man knit their brows in severe disap-
proval Of the mothers course.
"Don't you want nice biscuit with
sugar on it." asked the mother.
eyes"
She gave him the biscuit, after
careful preparation, and he threw it
on the floor.
"Never mind, I'm going to tell
your pa. You are a bad boy"
"No, ain't,'' striking the table
with his knife,
"pm going to tell your pa how you
have acted and he'll whip you"
"No, he won't" sticking his fork
through the table cloth.
"Don't you want some of mammals
potatoes?"
, "Yes."
She put piece Of potato on his
plate and he brushed it off and threw
1t on the floor. The drummer groan-
ed and the old maid shifted the air.
81 know what you want, and I'll
give it to you, if you don't behave
lysurself." said the mother, blushing.
81 want to get down."
She helped him down.
81 want to get up."
] She helped him up, and asked him
what he wanted.
II want some of your coffee.
She gave him her cup, and showing
it away, he cried:
"Don't want that Want my cof-
fee."
"f you don't hush, Ill take you
away from the table"
'.No you wont" and he threw hack
his head and kicked the under side OF
the table.
I'm going to tell your father;
sure as you live, am.''
! "No you WON'T" and he threw up
3 his head and looked like cub bear.
MADAM" said the old maid, "why
l don't You whip that boy?'
The poor woman looked up, blush.
ed and replied: "Oh, / am afraid. /
i whipped one hoy before this one was
r born / whipped him one evening,
o and that night he died. l have been
e miserable ever since,' and she
smoothed back the petulent boys
hair and bestowed on him a look OF
n indescribabie tenderness.
pI An old lady, who had taken no no.
u tiee Of the performance, looked up
!, and said:
. 81 think that you are doing your
son an injustice. To allow a child TO
IL pursue such an unrestraiEed e5urse
q cannot help hut be an injury to him.
u and your indulgence, permit me to
/ say, is mistaken kindness. I correct
ID ed my elder son. whipped him be-
r cause L knew it was necessary. Like
le the child Of whom you speak, he died.
T. l resolved never again TO enforce
rs obedience, and when was blessed
10 or cursed" she added-'swItha anoth-
u er son, vowed that he should never
feel the hand Of correction. My ex-
g. perience with him was very nearly
"a the same as that which you are hav-
ne ling. allowed him to dispute ms
t. word in his infancy, and after he
ut grew up, 1 had no control over him
as Many q night did he start from sleeI
,d and tell me TO shut my mouth. find
W ing me in prayer at his bedside. HI
no died'-the old lady's face was bcxet
al over the table. .'He died. but Oh,
es marks Of a mothers correction wer,
Ia. not on him. The law-had-attempt
,;s ed-the correction. He WIS hanged
m After q moments silence, the oil
Il