A STORY FOR LITTLE FOLKS
Tommy Woggs was a funny little boy. He was very proud and very lazy. He seemed to think he was a great man, and that other people lived only to serve and obey him.
None of the boys and girls liked him, because he used to order them round, and because he thought himself so much better than they were.
Tommy's father was a doctor, and a rich man. He could afford to have servants to wait upon his son, but he was not quite rich enough to spoil the child by letting him do as he pleased.
There are some things that wealth cannot purchase. It will not buy wisdom, for all the money in the world would not teach a person even to perform a simple question in arithmetic.
It will not buy the love and respect of others. Many rich men are hated and despised by nearly all who know them.
So Tommy's father could not buy an education for his son, nor would wealth win for him the esteem of his companions. He must study like the children of poor people if he wanted to be wise; and he must treat them well, in order to obtain their good will.
Tommy did not like to study, and he did like to command others. He wished every body to think that he was better than they, because he had been to New York, and because his father was rich.
Children are just like men and women. They always find out the really good boys and girls, and love and respect them. And they never think much of those who think too much of themselves.
When Tommy was eight years old, his father sent him to the village school. It was a public school, and it was the best in the town. He had learned his letters at home, and was able to read a very little.
At first he was pleased with the idea of going to school, and did not even tell his mother he would not go. He was very apt to say he would not do anything, when he was told to do it.
I am sorry to add that his parents were very much to blame, for he was an only child, and they did not like to cross him. They did not make him "mind," as all good parents ought to do, and as all good children are willing to do. He used to have his own way; and when he went to school, he hardly knew what it was to obey.
Miss Dale, the teacher, gave him a good seat, when he first went to school, and spoke very kindly to him. For two or three days he got along quite well. It was a new thing to him, and he was pleased with the school and the teacher.
But in a little while he was tired of the place, and of the teacher, and he had yet to learn that he could not always have his own way.
On the fourth day of his school-life, when Miss Dale called him up to read, he made up his mind that he would not read.
"I don't want to read," said he.
"Perhaps you don't, Thomas. Do you know what your father sends you to school for?" replied Miss Dale.
"No, I don't."
"You must not speak so to me. Come here."
"I won't."
"Don't be naughty, Thomas. I asked you to come to me."
"I won't."
"If you won't come, I shall bring you."
Tommy didn't exactly know what to make of this; but the teacher did not give him much time to think about it, for she took him by the collar of his coat, and, in spite of his kicking and screaming, dragged him up to the desk.
"Now, stand there, Thomas; and if you are a good boy, and obey me, I will not hurt you at all."
"I won't be a good boy," growled Tommy; and when Miss Dale let go of him, he threw himself on the floor and began to kick and scream as though he had been mad.
The teacher opened her desk, and took out a little stick. Tommy did not like the looks of the stick, but he kept on kicking and screaming.
"Get up, Thomas," said Miss Dale.
"I won't," screamed Tommy, very loud.
"Won't you?"
"No, I won't."
"Then I shall whip you."
"No, you won't," yelled Tommy.
But he was mistaken. Miss Dale would and did whip him, till he was glad to get up. He found the little stick was a thing not to be trifled with, for it made him smart so he could not bear the pain.
"I'm going home," said Tommy.
"Not yet, Thomas."
"Yes, I will."
"I think not. Now, pick up your book, and be a good boy."
"I won't."
Then a smart cut of the stick upon one of his legs made him scream with pain again.
"Pick up your book, now, Thomas."
"I'll tell my mother of you," snarled Tommy, as he picked up the book.
"You may, if you choose. Now open your book."
He did not mind, and again he felt the terrible stick, which caused him to obey.
"Now, Thomas," said Miss Dale, as she put the stick in the desk, "when I tell you to do anything, you must obey me."
"I won't, either."
"You must not say you won't to me."
"Yes, I will."
The teacher opened the desk and took out the stick again.
"Will you?"
"Yes, I will."
Tommy felt the stick once more; and this time blow followed blow till Tommy, of his own accord, promised not to use the naughty words again.
"Now, Thomas, if you will be a good boy you will not have any more trouble. You must do what I tell you to do, and not be saucy to me."
"I'll tell my mother of you. She don't whip me," muttered Tommy.
"You may tell your mother, and if she does not wish you to mind, she must not send you here. But I think she wants you to be a good boy, obey your teacher, and get your lessons."
"No, she don't," said Tommy, who was not quite willing to be good yet.
"Well, it does not make any difference whether she does or not; you must mind all I say if you come to school here."
Miss Dale then heard him read; but he did not do very well. He was thinking all the time what he could do that was naughty; but as he kept one eye on the little stick, he did not venture again to disobey or to be saucy.
When he went home that day he told his mother he was not going to school any more; and perhaps she would have let him have his own way. But his father, when he heard what Miss Dale had done, said he was glad she had made him mind, and that he should go to school in the afternoon.
Tommy makes a mistake.
To make the matter sure, Dr. Woggs went to school with him himself, and told the teacher to make a good boy of him, if she could, and above all things to make him obey her. So Tommy got the worst of it, after all.
Tommy and his Father.
Tommy Woggs learned to obey while he was in school. That little stick produced a great change in him; but after the first week, Miss Dale did not have occasion to use it again.
He found that he must mind, and he had sense sufficient to see that it was just as easy to obey before he was whipped, or even scolded, as it was afterwards.
It was the next year after Tommy began to go to school that he went to New York. It was a great thing for a little boy like him to go away so far, and see so many wonderful things; and his companions, for a time, thought he was a real hero.
When he came back he told ever so many stories of what he had seen—of the fine buildings in New York, of the great crowds of people in Broadway, and the sights he saw at the Museum.
But the children soon grew tired of it, and did not want to hear any more of Tommy's stories. I think it quite likely that, if Tommy had not been so smart about it, they would have been glad to hear a great deal more about New York.
But I have another story to tell about Tommy; and I hope it will convince all my young readers that it is better to obey their parents, even if they are not punished, than it is to disregard what they tell them.
I have said that Tommy was proud and lazy. He was so proud he did not like to mind; and so lazy that he did not like to go to school, because he had to study there, and learn his lessons.
One fine morning in June, when the birds were singing on all the trees, and the grass looked bright and green on the hills, Tommy left his father's house to go to school.
He did not want to go to school that day. He told his mother it was too pleasant to be shut up in a school room all day, and he begged that he might be permitted to stay at home.
"No, Tommy, you must go to school. Your father says that you must not stay at home a single day, unless you are sick."
This was about an hour before school time, and the lazy boy sat on the door stone, for a while, and then came back and told his mother he did not feel very well.
"What ails you, Tommy?" asked his mother.
"I'm sick."
"Not very sick, I think."
"Yes, I am; real sick."
Just then his father came in, and heard his complaint.
"How long have you felt sick, Tommy?" asked his father.
"Ever since I got up," replied Tommy, placing his hand upon his stomach.
"You ate your breakfast very well for a sick boy."
"I feel worse since I ate my breakfast," said the little boy, trying very hard to look sick.
"What ails you?"
"I feel sick at the stomach."
"Well, I think you will feel better by and by," added Dr. Woggs.
"But I can't go to school, father."
"O, you can't?" said his father, with a smile.
"I don't feel able to go."
"Then you needn't go."
Tommy was much pleased to find he had gained his point; and he did not think of the wicked lies he had told. His father said he might stay away from school that day, and this was all he wanted.
He had a pair of rabbits in the wood shed, and without thinking that he was sick, he was going out to play with them.
"Where are you going, Tommy?" asked his father.
"Out in the wood shed to see my rabbits."
"I thought you were sick."
"So I am, father."
"Then sit down on the sofa, and I will attend to you in a moment. Do you feel very sick?"
"I'm real bad, father," replied Tommy, quickly, for he was afraid his father would send him to school, after all.
Dr. Woggs opened a drawer in his bookcase, and took out a little jar, filled with a kind of yellow powder. He then asked Mrs. Woggs to get him a little molasses in a cup, and a teaspoon.
Tommy turned pale then, for he knew all about that powder in the little jar.
"Now, my son, we will make you well by to-morrow, so that you will be able to go to school again," said Dr. Woggs, as he took the cover off the jar.
Tommy began to cry, for he would rather have taken a whipping than a dose of that nasty, yellow powder.
"What's the matter, Tommy? Do you feel worse?" asked his father.
"I don't want to take any of that stuff," whined the poor little invalid.
"I know, Tommy, it isn't pleasant to take; but when we are sick, we must take something to keep us from getting any worse."