onsible for the loss of the whip
as I was, said never a word, for he was always prudent enough to hold
his tongue when the parental weather was stormy, and so escaped nearly
all punishment. And, strange to say, this time I also escaped, all
except a terrible scolding, though the thrashing weather seemed darker
than ever. As if unwilling to let the sun see the shameful job,
father took me into the cabin where the storm was to fall, and sent
David to the woods for a switch. While he was out selecting the
switch, father put in the spare time sketching my play-wickedness in
awful colors, and of course referred again and again to the place
prepared for bad boys. In the midst of this terrible word-storm,
dreading most the impending thrashing, I whimpered that I was only
playing because I couldn't help it; didn't know I was doing wrong;
wouldn't do it again, and so forth. After this miserable dialogue was
about exhausted, father became impatient at my brother for taking so
long to find the switch; and so was I, for I wanted to have the thing
over and done with. At last, in came David, a picture of open-hearted
innocence, solemnly dragging a young bur-oak sapling, and handed the
end of it to father, saying it was the best switch he could find. It
was an awfully heavy one, about two and a half inches thick at the
butt and ten feet long, almost big enough for a fence-pole. There
wasn't room enough in the cabin to swing it, and the moment I saw it I
burst out laughing in the midst of my fears. But father failed to see
the fun and was very angry at David, heaved the bur-oak outside and
passionately demanded his reason for fetching "sic a muckle rail like
that instead o' a switch? Do ye ca' that a switch? I have a gude mind
to thrash you insteed o' John." David, with demure, downcast eyes,
looked preternaturally righteous, but as usual prudently answered
never a word.

It was a hard job in those days to bring up Scotch boys in the way
they should go; and poor overworked father was determined to do it if
enough of the right kind of switches could be found. But this time, as
the sun was getting high, he hitched up old Tom and Jerry and made
haste to the Kingston lumber-yard, leaving me unscathed and as
innocently wicked as ever; for hardly had father got fairly out of
sight among the oaks and hickories, ere all our troubles,
hell-threatenings, and exhortations were forgotten in the fun we had
lassoing a stubborn old sow and laborious