and has taken care of me all these years, I _love_ her.
Edward is much handsomer, and far more genteel than I. Oh! keep him and
let me go with my mother!--(_clasps his hands and kneels, while large
tears roll down his cheeks_).

MRS. L. I order you to come with me. I _will_ have it!

MR. S. Remember, she is your mother.

MORRIS (_weeping bitterly_). Oh, how miserable I am!

[_They go out._

EDWARD (_who now thinks himself_ MORRIS, _remains_).

MARY. Well, Morris; that's your name now, you know--what's the matter?
are you sorry to have me for a mother? I shall have to sleep with one
eye open, to keep you out of mischief; but if you are good and work
hard, though I can't give you such fine clothes, I will love you as much
as Mrs. Langdon did.

EDWARD (_his lips quivering_). Oh! she is no longer my mother!

MARY. Well, am I not as good? I don't live in such a fine house, crammed
full of gimcracks; but I've got a dictionary that you can study in, and
big Peter, your father, shall hang a great switch over the mantelpiece,
to remind you that he won't stand any nonsense, or idleness, from you.
Dear me! how glad he will be to see you! Come, run with a hop, skip, and
jump, to the stable, and harness up old Whitenose: it's high time we
were off.

EDWARD (_sighing_). Yes, mother.

MARY. But first bid Mr. Sherwood good-by, and the rest. Thank them all
for their kindness to you; wait here a moment, till I come back.

[_Exit._

MR. S. Well, Edward, or Morris I should say, you see that nothing is
sure in this world: and I cannot but think that this reverse will do you
good. You treated every one except your mother--as you supposed Mrs.
Langdon was--with harshness, insult, and insolence: perhaps now you will
learn, in the very strongest manner, the exact meaning and intention of
the Golden Rule.

EDWARD. Oh, how unhappy I am! The very servants are more fortunate! They
at least can live with Mrs. Langdon.

MR. S. You despised and insulted your own mother; you struck your
brother; suppose he in return should--

EDWARD (_weeping_). Oh stop, I beg, Mr. Sherwood!

MR. S. You weep because you are only the son of Mary and big Peter, a
poor country farmer.

EDWARD. Oh no, sir! if they are my father and mother, I will try to
respect them, but to leave Mrs. Langdon--to be no longer her son--that
is what is driving me to de