to say--

"I cannot find it in my heart to punish the poor child when I consider
that he is both fatherless and motherless, and I trust he will outgrow
these childish ways."

Poor Mrs. Humphrey! She is not the only one that has been cheated by
this hope, and has thereby allowed their child to grow up with an
obstinate will that has marred their happiness for life.

In after years Mrs. Humphrey many times recalled to mind a remark which
a friend made to her one day in regard to little Ernest, then six years
old. He came into the parlor where the two ladies were sitting, and
taking from the centre table an elegantly bound book, began turning the
leaves with fingers that were none of the cleanest. Mrs. Humphrey gently
requested him to replace the book, which request she was obliged to
repeat two or three times before he paid the slightest attention to it.
And then it was only to say in a coaxing voice--

"Ernest wants this pretty book; do let me keep it."

Mrs. Humphrey replied that the book was not suitable for little boys,
and again requested him to replace it on the table. When a few minutes
had passed, and he still continued to turn the leaves of the book, Mrs.
Humphrey again repeated her request in a decided manner, telling him to
replace the book immediately, when his childish temper burst forth in a
regular tempest. He tossed the book from his hand, and threw himself on
the floor in a corner of the room, where he gave vent to his anger by a
succession of screams, which were anything but melodious. But his desire
to retain possession of the coveted book was yet strong, and when the
ladies again became engaged in conversation he quietly approached the
table and, hastily taking the book therefrom, left the room, and Mrs.
Humphrey, to save further trouble, appeared not to notice the act. The
lady, who was an intimate friend, asked Mrs. Humphrey if she were not
pursuing a wrong course in thus allowing the boy to do what she had once
forbidden him?

"Oh," said Mrs. Humphrey, "he is but a child, and will become ashamed
of such conduct as he grows older."

"I sincerely hope he may," replied the lady, "but I very much fear you
will see a day when you will regret not having been more firm in your
government of this child."

CHAPTER V.

Nine years have rolled by the with their various changes since we first
introduced Earnest Harwood to the reader, a child of five years of age,
weeping at the grave of his m