abitable."

Well, children did come, a good many of them, in time. There was Tom,
a broad-shouldered, chubby-cheeked, active, hilarious son of mischief,
born in the very image of his father; and there was Charlie, and Jim,
and Louisa, and Sophie the second, and Frank,--and a better, brighter,
more joy-giving household, as far as temperament and nature were
concerned, never existed.

But their whole childhood was a long battle,--children versus
furniture, and furniture always carried the day. The first step of the
housekeeping powers was to choose the least agreeable and least
available room in the house for the children's nursery, and to fit it
up with all the old, cracked, rickety furniture a neighboring
auction-shop could afford, and then to keep them in it. Now everybody
knows that to bring up children to be upright, true, generous, and
religious needs so much discipline, so much restraint and correction,
and so many rules and regulations, that it is all that the parents can
carry out, and all the children can bear. There is only a certain
amount of the vital force for parents or children to use in this
business of education, and one must choose what it shall be used for.
The Aunt Zeruah faction chose to use it for keeping the house and
furniture, and the children's education proceeded accordingly. The
rules of right and wrong of which they heard most frequently were all
of this sort: Naughty children were those who went up the front
stairs, or sat on the best sofa, or fingered any of the books in the
library, or got out one of the best teacups, or drank out of the
cut-glass goblets.

Why did they ever want to do it? If there ever is a forbidden fruit in
an Eden, will not our young Adams and Eves risk soul and body to find
out how it tastes? Little Tom, the oldest boy, had the courage and
enterprise and perseverance of a Captain Parry or Dr. Kane, and he
used them all in voyages of discovery to forbidden grounds. He stole
Aunt Zeruah's keys, unlocked her cupboards and closets, saw, handled,
and tasted everything for himself, and gloried in his sins.

"Don't you know, Tom," said the nurse to him once, "if you are so
noisy and rude, you'll disturb your dear mamma? She's sick, and she
may die, if you're not careful."

"Will she die?" says Tom gravely.

"Why, she may."

"Then," said Tom, turning on his heel,--"then I'll go up the front
stairs."

As soon as ever the little rebel was old enough, he was sent away