And then, poor Mrs. Easy, how _she_ did misjudge! Better for
her son, had she dismissed her servants--or rather had she directed them
to some more appropriate service, and let Master John have remained at
the gate day and night for a month, unless willing, before the
expiration of that time, to have opened it for himself, and by his own
strength. Parents in their well-meant kindness, or, perhaps, it were
better named, thoughtless indulgence, often repress energies which, if
their children were compelled to put forth, would result in benefits of
the most important character.
It is, indeed, painful to see boys, as we sometimes see them, struggling
against "wind and tide;" but watch such boys--follow them--see how they
put forth strength as it accumulates--apply energies as they
increase--make use of new expedients as they need them, and by-and-by
where are they? Indeed, now and then they are obliged to lift at the
gate pretty lustily to get it open; now and then they are obliged to
turn a pretty sharp corner, and, perhaps, lose a little skin from a
shin-bone or a knuckle-joint, but, _at length_, where are they? Why, you
see them sitting _in_ "the gate"--a scriptural phrase for the post of
honor. Who is that judge who so adorns the bench? My Lord Mansfield, or
Sir Matthew Hale, or Chief Justice Marshall? Why, and from what
condition, has he reached his eminence? That was a boy who some years
since was an active, persevering little fellow round the streets, the
son of the poor widow, who lives under the hill.
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