In fact, I am sure no little
fellow was ever regarded with more affectionate love than our Bob. The
painful story which, with much hesitation, I have set out to tell is
one, therefore, that no member of our little family can ever forget.
We always tried to act the part of sensible parents toward our little
boy. He never stepped inside of a school-house until he was seven
years old, and, when he did so, it was to stay only a brief while. It
was six months before he became acquainted with every letter of the
alphabet, and no youngster of his years ever ruined more clothing than
he. The destruction of shoes, hats, and trousers was enough to
bankrupt many a father, and it often provoked a protest from his
mother. I have seen him, within a half hour after having his face
scrubbed until it shone like an apple, present himself in such ragged
attire and with so soiled a countenance, that it took a second glance
to identify him.
And yet, as I sit here writing by the evening lamp, I am glad to recall
that I never scolded Bob. I would have been sadly neglectful of my
duty had I failed to reprove and advise him, and I am sure he honestly
strove to obey my wishes; but the sum and substance of it all was, he
couldn't do it. He was a vigorous little fellow, overrunning with
animal spirits, high health, and mischief; and it was a pleasure to me
to see him laying the firm foundation of a lusty constitution, which,
in later years, could laugh at disease.
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