Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1915-02-22

with the boy who is so given to living tha,
nobody can believe word he saysl He 4,
looked at with aversion wherever he goea
and parents dread to see him come amona
their children. oh, George! my son! rather
than see you come to this pass, dear as You
are to my heart gladly would I assist to nail
you up In your little coffin, and follow YOU
to your grave. Hard, indeed, would It be ID
me to give up my son, whose little feet ars
always so ready to run about with me- and
whose fondly looking eyes, and sweet prattlt
make so large part of my happiness Bul
still, 1 would give him up, rather than sea
him n common liar "a
" Pa said George very seriously, do !
ever tell lies?'
"'No, George, I thank God you do not, my
son; and 1 rejoice in the hope that you never
Will AT least. you shall never, from me
have cause to be guilty of so shameful
thing. Many parents, indeed, even compel
their children to this vile practice, by bar,
barously beating them for every little fault
hence, on the next offense, the terrified littla
creature slips out lie, just to escape the
rod. But as to yourself, George, you know
1 have always told you, and now tell you
again that whenever, by accident, you do
anything wrong, which must often be the
case, as you are but a poor little boy yet.
without experience or knowledge, you must
never tell falsehood to conceal It; but como
bravely up, my son, like little man, and tell
me of 1t; and, instead of beating you George,
will but the more love you for It, my dear
"This, you'll say. was sowing good seed
Yes, II was; and the crop, thank
God was as I believe It ever will be, when
man acts the true parent, that is, the Guar
dian Angel, by his child.
The Boy and His Hatchet
"The following anecdote is a case in point
1t is too valuable to be lost, and too true to
be doubted; for It was communicated to me
by the same excellent lady to whom am In
debted for the last
when George. said she, was about years
old, he was made the wealthy master Of
hatohet, of which, like most little boys he
was immoderately fond. and was constantly
going about chopping everything that came
in his way. One day, in the garden, where
he often amused himself hacking his mothers
pea-sticks, he unuckily tried the edge OF his
hatchet' on the body OF beautiful young
English cherry tree, which he barked SO ter
ribly that I don't believe the tree ever Got
the better of It. The next morning the ola
gentleman, finding out what had befallen
his tree, which, by the by. was great IA
vorite, came into the house; and with much
warmth asked for the mischieyous autnof
declaring at the same time that he would not
have taken Ave guineas for his tree, NOBODY
could tell him anything about 1t. Presently
George and his hatchet made their appear
ance, George said his father, do you kno"
who killed that beautiful little cherry tres
yonder in the garden?'
This was a tough question; and George
staggered under It for a moment; but quickly
recovered himself; and looking at his tathe!'
with the sweet face of youth frightened WIN
the inexpressible charm OF all-conqueEins
truth, he brayely cried out:
"'I can't tell lie pa; you know can
tell lie. did cut 1t with my hatchet
"'Run to my arms. you dearest boy ef'ep
his father In transports, run to my sIh'
glad am I, George. that you killed my ~
for you have paid me for IL thousand foia'
Such an act or heroism In my son is "oi"
more than a thousand trees, though nl97
somed with silver. and their fruits OF pufss'
gold.'"
Such Is the story OF the hatehet ana ~
cherry tree. Weems intended no harm ps y.
and probably no harm has come. As 70
style, the reason why It has usually been 49,
In other words In the reading books Is qul1
obvious But with sn its faults the a'0',
win always have its place in the natlo.e
traditions. We cannot part with y
OF US even regard Il with a real affection