He did not reflect in what a narrow circuit he was nailing up the sympathies of his child, by such words as those. But when he was reseated in the wagon, he did not feel altogether pleased with himself, and his inward uneasiness was expended on the horse. The poor bewildered animal, covered with foam, and breathing short and hard, tried his utmost to do his master’s will, as far as he could understand it. But, nervous and terrified, constantly in expectation of the whip, he started at every sound. If he went too fast, he was reined in with a sudden jerk, that tore the corners of his mouth; if he went too slow, the cruel crack of the whip made him tear over the ground, to be again restrained by the violent jerk. The sun was setting, and threw a radiant glow on every tree and little shrub, jewelled by the recent shower. Cows grazed peacefully in verdant hollows; birds sang; a little brook rippled cosily by the wayside; winds played gently with the flowers, and kissed the raindrops from their faces. But all this loveliness passed unheeded by those human hearts, because they had at the moment no inward beauty to harmonize with nature. Perhaps the familiar landscape seemed quite otherwise to the poor horse, than it would have done, had he travelled along those pleasant paths guided by a wise and gentle hand. Had Joseph continued to be little Joe, his eager welcome and loving prattle might soon have tamed the evil spirit in his father’s soul that night. But he was a tall lad, who had learned to double up his fists, and tell other boys they had better let him alone, if they knew what was good for themselves. He still loved his father better than any thing else in the world, but the charm and the power of infancy were gone. He reflected back the vexed spirit, like a too faithful mirror. He was no longer a transparent, unconscious medium for the influence of angels. Indeed, paternal affection gradually became a hardening, rather than a softening influence. Ambition for his son increased the love of accumulation; and the gratification of this propensity narrowed his sympathies more and more. Joseph had within him the unexpanded germs of some noble qualities; but he inherited his father’s passionate temperament with his mother’s obstinacy; and the education of such circumstances as I have described turned his energies and feelings into wrong channels. The remark, “It is’nt _his_ horse; what business is it to _him_?” heard in his boyhood, expressed the views and habits of his later years. But his mental growth, such as it was, pleased his father, who often said exultingly, “There is no danger of Joe. He knows how to fight his own way through the world.”