the father quitted the room, took his hat, and marched to his office, there to explain the law, and obtain justice for all offenders.  But alas for Charley!  How great was the change of feeling in his boyish heart.  His mother looked for a moment with an expression of fear and sorrow upon her countenance, and telling a servant to wipe up the water he had spilled—­she took his hand gently to lead him away.  For a moment he repulsed her, and stood as if transfixed with astonishment and rage.  But he could not withstand her pleading look, and she led him to her own room.  As soon as the door closed upon them, his passion burst forth in words.  “Father treats me like a dog.  I never will bear it—­never, never, another day.  Mother, you know I did not not mean to do a wrong thing, and what right has my father to shake and cuff me as if I were a vile slave?  Mother, I’ll break the house down itself if he treats me so—­to box my ears right before all the family!  And last night he sent me out of the room, so stern, just because I slammed the door a little.  I was glad he had to go to the office, and I wish he would stay there—­”

“Hush, hush, my son, what are you saying?  Stop, for a moment, and think what you are saying of your own kind father!  Charles, my son, you are adding sin to sin.  Sit down, my dear child, and crush that wicked spirit in the bud.”  And she gently seated him in a chair, and laying her cool hand upon his burning brow, she smoothed his hair, and pressing her lips to his forehead, he felt her tears.  “Mother, mother, you blessed good mother.”  His heart melted within him, and he wept as if it would burst.  For a few moments, both wept without restraint, but feeling that the opportunity for making a lasting impression must not be lost, Mrs. Arnold struggled to command herself.  “Charles, my son, you have displeased your father exceedingly, and you cannot wonder that he was greatly disturbed.  That pitcher, you often heard him say, was used for many years in his father’s family.  It is an old relic which he valued highly.  It was very strong, and has been used by us so long, that it seemed like a familiar friend.  It is not strange that for a moment he was exceedingly angry to see it so carelessly broken, and oh, my son, what wicked feelings have been in your heart, what undutiful words upon your tongue!”

“I cannot help it, mother—­I cannot help it,” replied the excited boy, “he ought not to treat me so, and I will not—­” “Charles, Charles, you are wrong, you are very wrong, and I pray you may be sorry for it,” interrupted his mother, in a tone of the deepest sorrow.  “Do not speak again till you can conquer such a spirit,” and they were both silent for a few moments.  The mother’s heart went up in fervent prayer that this might be a salutary trial, and that she might be enabled to guide his young and hasty spirit aright.