“I know very little about her,” replied Mrs. Watkinson, drawing up her head, “and I have not the least desire to know any more. It is well she has no children; they’d be lost sheep if brought up in her fold. For my part, ma’am,” she continued, turning to Mrs. Morland, “I am quite satisfied with the quiet joys of a happy home. And no mother has the least business with any other pleasures. My innocent babes know nothing about plays, and balls, and parties; and they never shall. Do they look as if they had been accustomed to a life of pleasure?” They certainly did not! for when the Morlands took a glance at them, they thought they had never seen youthful faces that were less gay, and indeed less prepossessing. There was not a good feature or a pleasant expression among them all. Edward Morland recollected his having often read “that childhood is always lovely.” But he saw that the juvenile Watkinsons were an exception to the rule. “The first duty of a mother is to her children,” repeated Mrs. Watkinson. “Till nine o’clock, my daughter Jane and myself are occupied every evening in hearing the lessons that they have learned for to-morrow’s school. Before that hour we can receive no visitors, and we never have company to tea, as that would interfere too much with our duties. We had just finished hearing these lessons when you arrived. Afterwards the children are permitted to indulge themselves in rational play, for I permit no amusement that is not also instructive. My children are so well trained, that even when alone their sports are always serious.” Two of the boys glanced slyly at each other, with what Edward Morland comprehended as an expression of pitch-penny and marbles. “They are now engaged at their game of astronomy,” continued Mrs. Watkinson. “They have also a sort of geography cards, and a set of mathematical cards. It is a blessed discovery, the invention of these educationary games; so that even the play-time of children can be turned to account. And you have no idea, ma’am, how they enjoy them.” Just then the boy Joseph rose from the table, and stalking up to Mrs. Watkinson, said to her, “Mamma, please to whip me.” At this unusual request the visitors looked much amazed, and Mrs. Watkinson replied to him, “Whip you, my best Joseph—for what cause? I have not seen you do anything wrong this evening, and you know my anxiety induces me to watch my children all the time.” “You could not see me,” answered Joseph, “for I have not _done_ anything very wrong. But I have had a bad thought, and you know Mr. Ironrule says that a fault imagined is just as wicked as a fault committed.” “You see, ma’am, what a good memory he has,” said Mrs. Watkinson aside to Mrs. Morland. “But my best Joseph, you make your mother tremble. What fault have you imagined? What was your bad thought?” “Ay,” said another boy, “what’s your thought like?”