other kinds of instruction have--the chance of becoming useful by being
first made attractive. You can't get him to learn to read by telling
him that it will improve his mind--but you can by getting him to look
at a picture book. You can't get him to drink senna and salts by
reasoning with him about its doing him good--but you can by promising
him a lump of sugar to take after it. You admit this sort of principle
so far, because you're obliged; but the moment anybody wants (in a
spirit of perfect reverence and desire to do good) to extend it to
higher things, you purse up your lips, shake your head, and talk about
Rationalism--as if that was an answer! Well! well! it's no use
talking--go your own way--I wash my hands of the business altogether.
But now I _am_ at it I'll just say this one thing more before I've
done:--your way of punishing the boy for his behavior in church is, in
my opinion, about as bad and dangerous a one as could possibly be
devised. Why not give him a thrashing, if you _must_ punish the
miserable little urchin for what's his misfortune as much as his fault?
Why not stop his pudding, or something of that sort? Here you are
associating verses in the Bible, in his mind, with the idea of
punishment and being locked up in the cold! You may make him get his
text by heart, I dare say, by fairly tiring him out; but I tell you
what I'm afraid you'll make him learn too, if you don't mind--you'll
make him learn to dislike the Bible as much as other boys dislike the
birch-rod!"

"Sir," cried Mr. Thorpe, turning suddenly round, and severely
confronting Mr. Goodworth, "once for all, I must most respectfully
insist on being spared for the future any open profanities in
conversation, even from your lips. All my regard and affection for you,
as Mrs. Thorpe's father, shall not prevent me from solemnly recording
my abhorrence of such awful infidelity as I believe to be involved in