The rod and reproof give wisdom: but a child left to himself bringeth his mother to shame.—PROV. xxix, 15.

BENEATH the courteous smile and easy manner worn in the presence of her acquaintances, Mrs. Fielding concealed a heart laden with grief and often with despair, and she knew no Friend on high to bear her burden, no resting-place for the bruised spirit that groaned with untold misery.

She comforted herself in the loss of her eldest son, whom she had given up for his worldly interest, by the knowledge that he was well provided for, and happy as self-importance and indulgence could make him. She had but a very small place in his regard; and if the young affections which had been cut off from their earliest claims were in any exercise at all, it was among strangers or relatives, whose place should have been subordinate to that of home and nature. At this she did not murmur, though it added a pang which she denounced as selfish. She took credit for the sacrifice she had made of a mother's feelings, and looked forward to the golden result with proud satisfaction. The wound was willfully self-inflicted, and she bore it bravely.

Probably the youth was as well-instructed as he would have been at home in all the moral qualities; and better after his generous uncle began to realize the responsibility he had undertaken, and to imbibe a desire to understand somewhat of man's eternal destiny. Riches had not satisfied his soul; and though he had bought many things with gold, he found it insufficient to procure peace of mind, or make a bargain for eternity. Mrs. Fielding had occasionally some fears lest her sister Marion's "peculiar views" had found favor in his eyes.

The place from which her eldest child was in some sense banished was filled by his brother George, who grew up, under her indulgent eye, in habits which she weakly fancied emanated only from the thoughtlessness of youth, and would yield to reason and authority in time. She knew of many circumstances that roused occasional alarm; and when they came to his father's knowledge, she palliated and excused, and perpetually came between the boy and the punishment he merited. Mr. Fielding's displeasure, though just, was not always wisely manifested; at one time severe, at another indulgent, according to the mood in which the annoyance assailed him; and when provoked, hasty in his choice of expedients to check the growing evil.

Blanche, engrossed with gay friends and varied pleasures, was no comfort to her mother in those scenes of domestic sorrow which too often disturbed her home, and thought of little concerning them but the disgrace which she sometimes feared George would bring upon his family. Here again the unselfishness of the mother prevailed to excuse the selfish child; she would not that premature grief should dim those bright eyes, or oppress the gay spirits that seemed to flourish amid the world's revelry and admiration. So she continued to hope the best and deceive herself, while her son was growing more unmanageable, presuming, and reckless.

His early love of the indulgences of the table, treated as a joke in childhood, and not restrained by a firm and consistent authority in after years, developed into decided intemperance, which was deemed more disreputable than sinful. In vain Mr. Fielding stopped supplies of money, while he could coax or threaten from his mother the means of gratifying his inclinations. And many were the self-denials to which she submitted, and the disingenuous expedients to which she resorted, in order to furnish him with continued funds. His promises were speedily broken, his resolutions yielded before every temptation, and no influence seemed strong enough to keep him within the common bounds of respectability.

The quarrels and contentions with his father, the constant terror in which he held his still doting mother, the fearful effect of his example on the younger members of the family, together with the risk of pecuniary loss and crushing disgrace, all operated toward a serious decision that some effort must be made to rid the household of such an unmanageable inmate.

After a difficult task one evening, in compelling his son, who had broken into the drawing-room in a state of intoxication, to retire to his chamber, Mr. Fielding returned for a moment to his agitated family.

"Helen," said he sternly, "I am resolved to execute the plan I have named to you; therefore do not seek to interfere with it again. I cannot and will not live subject to such infamy as this; if there be a remedy at the antipodes, it shall be sought."

And leaving the house, he bent his troubled steps toward the residence of his brother-in-law.

The worldly man does not often turn to the world for comfort in the hour of heart-sorrow such as Mr. Fielding was then enduring. If he can reckon a child of God among relatives, or even mere acquaintance, he would rather seek counsel and sympathy there, for he knows he is cared for, his confidence will not be abused, nor his misery thrown coldly back upon his burdened spirit.

Mr. Fielding's heart ached too bitterly to permit him to join the happy party where Mr. Latimer was reading to his family, and requested a private interview.

"I have just been seriously annoyed," said he in apology; "and it strikes me that you can help me, Latimer. I believe you will if you can."

Mr. Latimer kindly confirmed this impression, and the unhappy father proceeded.

"You are aware, I dare say—it is likely that you would hear—how my son George has been conducting himself for some time past. He is bent upon ruining himself and me also, and I have decided to send him to sea, in the hope that, separated from the temptations and indulgences of his present position, he may be brought to his senses. Do you think Philip's captain would take him? I know your son is a steady fellow, and perhaps he would look after his cousin a little, and give him the benefit of his good example. He is welcome to make anything of him he can; if a saint, all the better, for I am weary enough of him as a sinner, I assure you."

"My dear brother," said Mr. Latimer, "you forget that he is more likely to influence others, than to be influenced by them. And I do not think Captain M. would undertake the charge unless invested with authority to restrain in any way he may judge necessary."

"That he shall certainly have. I shall be too glad to be relieved from what has almost distracted me during the last year, to cavil about the terms. So when the ship returns, I shall calculate upon your interest with the captain. And if he will not, why some one else shall, that's all; for the same country cannot contain me and such a son any longer."

"Does George know of your decision?" asked Mr. Latimer.

"No, he has only been threatened with it. But I have told his mother, and therefore he will soon be aware of it. Helen has been most blamable with her foolish indulgence, and cruelly he is repaying her now. It is well for you, Latimer, that your boys take the steady turn; though, to tell you the truth, I rather wonder at it."

"I wish I could persuade you, for the sake of your other children, to try at least a part of our plan," said Mr. Latimer; "your own has not answered to your satisfaction, and it is not too late to change it."

"Why as to that, you know it is all a matter of chance; one lad goes right, and another wrong, without any apparent cause."

"Excuse me if I cannot admit that," said Mr. Latimer kindly; "for though I do not doubt for a moment that you have been a kind father, and have done quite as much as many other fathers to secure the greatest advantages for your boy, yet if you had thought more of the Scriptural precept to 'train him up in the way he should go,' I cannot help feeling assured you would have experienced a different result."

"But, Latimer, may you not be congratulating yourself rather prematurely on the complete success of your training? You may not know all about Philip yet; perhaps he has his faults, though they may not be so openly disgraceful as George's."

"I am sure he has; but he has also a counteracting principle which will not allow them to 'have dominion' over him."

"But I have heard you say that no human will or power can impart that principle."

"True; but we know who can, and the means by which He often condescends to impart it; and when we are diligently using those which he has commanded, we may justly expect the reward he has connected with them."

"I thought we had worn this subject threadbare years ago," said Mr. Fielding, with a melancholy smile, "but I confess your words ought to have greater weight now that you seem in some measure to have tested your views successfully. It just strikes me to ask what you mean by 'the way he should go;' for I wished my boy to be sober, honest, dutiful, and industrious, and had him educated in the respect and practice of all such virtues—at least he was subjected to no example of a contrary tendency—and I call that 'the way he should go.'"

"When Marion and I read those words in the Bible," said Mr. Latimer, "we were beginning to be too deeply interested in the subject to pass them over superficially; we examined into every word. 'Train' implied a duty on our part, and must have reference to the entire being of our child—body, soul, and spirit. To train one portion and neglect another, could not be training a child. Nor could we feel that the duty was done by putting him under the instruction and control of qualified professors. A child must have a character; and learning and study, however constant, do not form moral conduct. A great philosopher may be a petty tyrant; a wise legislator may not know a law that can rule his own temper; and a fascinating poet may be an intemperate spendthrift: such moral deformities never sprang from the training which the Bible inculcates. Affections, tempers, habits, thoughts, language, all need watchfulness, and discipline, and direction, as much as intellectual powers and bodily exercises. And the training is not worth the name which does not embrace them all."

"Well, this is rather strict, but it may be true. Now, then, what about 'the way' for all this? Who is to decide that? For you see no two parents may think alike upon that point."

"I do not believe that to be a matter of opinion, any more than the duty one of choice. And at the same source whence the command proceeds, I look for my instructions how to obey it. I find it written in Proverbs xxi, 8:

"'The "way of man" is froward and strange—'

"And in Job xxii, 15:

"'Hast thou marked the old way which wicked men have trodden? Which were cut down out of time, whose foundation was overflown with a flood?'

"Isaiah says:

"'All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his "own way."'

"And it needs no inspired record to enable us to form some idea of the state of things when every man does that which is 'right in his own eyes;' for as the natural inclinations of the human heart are evil, opposed to obedience, authority, and holiness, it must come to pass according to the proverb,—

"'There is "a way which seemeth right" unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death.'"

"Well, it is quite clear that these must be the ways in which a child should 'not' go; but the chief question yet remains."

"If we consider a little further, we shall see that God's word has positive directions as well as negative warnings. And at the threshold of parental as well as every other duty stands the sentinel of wisdom:

"'In "all thy ways" acknowledge Him, and he shall direct thy paths.'

"I find God's prophet of old speaking thus:

"'I will teach you the good and the right way: only fear the Lord, and serve him in truth with all your heart.' 1 Samuel xii, 23, 24.

"Again, in Proverbs vi, 23:

"'The commandment is a lamp; and the law is light; and reproofs of instruction are the way of life.'

"David asks, and answers for us, that most important question:

"'Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way? By taking heed thereto according to thy word.'

"And God's word has left nothing doubtful concerning the good and right way, which preserves health, purity, and peace.

"'They that tarry long at the wine' are warned of 'woe;'

"And filial obedience, personal sobriety, industry, and truthfulness are distinctly connected with certain rewards. But we find the whole subject beautifully summed up in the words of Him who spoke as never man spoke:

"'I am the way;' 'Come unto me.'

"Looking to him in his work, he is the way of pardon; resting in his love is the way of peace; and following in his steps as our perfect example is that way of righteousness in which the child should be trained to walk, from which, when old, he shall 'not depart,' and where alone 'the hoary head is a crown of glory.'"

"Latimer," said Mr. Fielding, seriously, "I have been accustomed to think that you were looking too far forward, and, in eagerness to secure heaven for your children, were forgetting that they have to get respectably through this world first. I believe I have been mistaken."

"If we set God and his word first, all other things fall into their right place, my dear brother. It is as true in morals as in providence:

"'Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.'

"In all the social relations of life, in all public duties as well as private actions, the real believer in Jesus Christ should be first and best. Mind, I do not speak of professors of religion, nor of that fashionable sham which some call religion, which tries to serve God and mammon, provokes no opposition, and deserves only contempt; but I mean the real, matter-of-fact believer, who is born again of God's Spirit, lives by God's word, and is what he is by God's grace."

"Well, I cannot see with you in everything, but I own that in some things you have appealed to my common sense, and perhaps my younger children may profit by it."

"May I venture to ask if you will allow me to have a little conversation with George concerning himself and his own interests?" asked Mr. Latimer.

"Most willingly, and thankfully too," said Mr. Fielding. "But you know he has not been trained as you have described. Perhaps he may turn round and charge me with not having done my duty by him, after all."

"The commands of God concerning you which I would lay before him are unconditional; it is 'Honor,' 'Obey,' without any reference to what the parent has done, or left undone; and he must learn his own responsibility before he can presume to look at yours. Believe me, dear brother, I have not spoken so plainly to excuse your boy, but only in the hope that concerning the others you will think more of 'the way' in which they should go."

"I wish you would get your good Marion to initiate Helen into it a little; she has more in her power than I have, and I really do not know that the bitter lesson she is learning will have the effect of altering any of her ideas about her children."

"But, Fielding, we men of business, who spend the greater part of our day in providing for the temporal wants of our families, ought we not to find a little time for their moral and spiritual benefit? Our riches cannot make them wise, good, or happy. Let us seek for them first those unsearchable riches which can do all."

"Well, perhaps we may have a little further talk about it some other time. You will do what you can with the captain when the ship comes home; and any good advice you can bestow on George I will thank you for, though he may not; he is a sad, unfeeling fellow. But I must return home, lest he may be breaking out for some fresh mischief. May God save you, Latimer, from ever knowing by experience the feelings with which I left it this evening."

"And may the same God teach you where to find help and comfort," said Mr. Latimer, as he affectionately grasped his brother's hand.

And they parted, one to a distracted wife and a disturbed home, where God's presence was neither desired nor thought of; the other to a sympathizing and happy domestic party, on whom His blessing, so unceasingly sought and so dearly prized, rested in abundant proofs of gracious favor.

George Fielding had no relish either for his uncle's advice or his father's project. And one day, during Mr. Fielding's absence, having found access to a large sum of money at the office, the temptation proved too strong for his remaining sense of right. He took advantage of an opportunity to pocket the amount and depart, and was seen at the office and at home no more.

When hour after hour of the succeeding night passed away, poor Mrs. Fielding guessed too truly that her son had absconded, and her restless distress tended to confirm her husband's fears. She dared not ask what course would be pursued, but she trusted that the father's heart was yet too tender, or his pride too great, to expose his domestic sorrow to the public eye.

The amount with which George had disappeared was too important to be lightly abandoned to his profligate gratifications, and all private means of pursuit and detection were immediately put into operation. After a week of fruitless search, Mr. Fielding returned home wearied in body and broken down in spirit, and in a mood of sullen resentment, commanded that his son's name should never more be uttered in his presence, and he should be considered henceforth as dead.

As easily might the earth be arrested in its orbit, as a child, however worthless, be banished by the power of human will from his mother's heart; and the blow sank deep there with a wound never to be healed on earth. Some years before, Mrs. Fielding had joined in the opinion, with reference to a somewhat similar case in the family of an acquaintance, that disgust at religion had driven a child into sin, to escape the annoyance of Scriptural instruction. Here no such reason could be alleged. No motive but that of honor and respectability before men had ever assailed the reluctant ear; every promise, every bribe, every prospect connected with personal advantage, had been tried in vain.

Whence, then, the distressing disclosure of this unexpected iniquity? Whence but out of that heart which Divine inspiration has pronounced "deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked"? That heart originally alike in all, but unreclaimed from its native ruin by that knowledge which is as a second birth. It is true that it "might" have happened in spite of Scriptural instruction, parental care, and prayerful fulfillment of Christian duty, but it is clear that all human probabilities, and all divine promises, are in favor of a different result. Neither is it denied that in such a family as Mr. Fielding's might have been found a Christian youth, taught by the Spirit of God, and providentially guarded from the natural consequences of the evil influences around him. But such is not God's promise, and to expect it is only presumption. They who sow to the wind must expect to reap only the whirlwind.