t different children require different sorts of punishment, and as
neither your father nor I approve of beating you like a dog, and you
say that shutting you up with nothing to do only makes you worse, I
shall advise him the next time you are naughty, to send immediately for
a load of wood, and make you saw it all up into small pieces, or take
you where some house is building and order you to run up and down a long
ladder all day with a hod of bricks on your shoulder, or hire you out to
blow the big bellows for a blacksmith. How do you think you would like
that?"

"I had a great deal rather run after the fire engines, to put the fire
out. That's the kind of work I would like. Every body screaming, and
pumping, and playing streams of water--twenty firemen rushing up
ladders, pulling old women and cats out of the windows, and somebody
inside pitching out the looking glasses and crockery to save them! I
wish our house was on fire this very minute, so I could pull you and
Helen out, and save all the furniture. That would be the greatest fun in
the world!"

"Please don't set fire to the house," cried his mother, laughing, "for
the fun of saving our lives. I prefer to keep it just as it is, and
walking quietly out at the door." As she spoke, the sun suddenly burst
forth from the clouds, and his bright rays darting into the room, the
children sprang joyfully up, and, with their mother's consent, were soon
out of the house with jumping-rope and hoop, to join their little
companions in a neighboring park.

George and Helen were two charming, ingenuous children. George was full
of frolic, mischief, and fun, with generous impulses and excellent
intentions, which only required peculiar and careful training and
encouragement to develop him into a steady, high-principled man. Locking
him up with nothing to do, as he truly said, did him more harm than
good; he required active punishment, and his mother wisely intended to
take the hint for his future benefit. Her little Helen, though just as
full of play and fun, was more easily managed. A present of a book so
won upon her love and gratitude, that her mother had only to hold out
the prospect of a new one, and a loving kiss (Helen prized the kiss even
more than the book) as a reward for good behavior, to make her quite a
pattern of a dear, amiable little girl.

The next morning the kind mother called upon her friend Aunt Fanny,
bringing George and Helen with her, as it was Saturday.