of the wilderness and with the briars thereof.  George Offor, John Bunyan’s somewhat quaint editor, gives the readers of his edition this personal testimony:—­’After bringing up a very large family, who are a blessing to their parents, I have yet to learn what part of the human body was created to be beaten.’  At the same time the rod must mean something in the word of God; it certainly means something in God’s hand when His obstinate children are under it, and it ought to mean something in a godly parent’s hand also.  Little Obstinate’s two parents were far from ungodly people, though they lived in such a city; but they were daily destroying their only son by letting him always have his own way, and by never saying no to his greed, and his lies, and his anger, and his noisy and disorderly ways.  Eli in the Old Testament was not a bad man, but he destroyed both the ark of the Lord and himself and his sons also, because his sons made themselves vile, and he restrained them not.  God’s children are never so soft, and sweet, and good, and happy as just after He restrains them, and has again laid the rod of correction upon them.  They then kiss both the rod and Him who appointed it.  And earthly fathers learn their craft from God.  The meekness, the sweetness, the docility, and the love of a chastised child has gone to all our hearts in a way we can never forget.  There is something sometimes almost past description or belief in the way a chastised child clings to and kisses the hand that chastised it.  But poor old Spare-the-Rod never had experiences like that.  And young Obstinate, having been born like Job’s wild ass’s colt, grew up to be a man like David’s unbitted and unbridled mule, till in after life he became the author of all the evil and mischief that is associated in our minds with his evil name.

In old Spare-the-Rod’s child also this true proverb was fulfilled, that the child is the father of the man.  For all that little Obstinate had been in the nursery, in the schoolroom, and in the playground—­all that, only in an aggravated way—­he was as a youth and as a grown-up man.  For one thing, Obstinate all his days was a densely ignorant man.  He had not got into the way of learning his lessons when he was a child; he had not been made to learn his lessons when he was a child; and the dislike and contempt he had for his books as a boy accompanied him through an ignorant and a narrow-minded life.  It was reason enough to this so unreasonable man not to buy and read a book that you had asked him to buy and read it.  And so many of the books about him were either written, or printed, or published, or sold, or read, or praised by people he did not like, that there was little left for this unhappy man to read, even if otherwise he would have read it.  And thus, as his mulish obstinacy kept him so ignorant, so his ignorance in turn increased his obstinacy.  And then when he came, as life went on, to have anything to do with other men’s