Ella Clinton; or, By Their Fruits Ye Shall Know Them

"No, I think you won't," sneered the angry man, "for I'll give you such a dressing, as you won't want again in a hurry."

Never, in all her life, had Ella had such a terrible whipping. It was several weeks before she entirely recovered from its effects. Aunt Prudence was very angry indeed, when she heard an account of the matter.

"Nobody," she said, "should abuse her brother's child so. She was bad, she knew, but that was no reason why she should be half killed. She would sue Mr. Burton for damages, and make him pay well for it, and Ella should never go another step to that school while he taught it. She wasn't going to have her murdered, just for spilling a little ink. Mr. Burton isn't fit to teach!" she continued; "a man that can't govern his temper better than that, and treat children like human beings, instead of like brutes, isn't fit to have the control of them. For my part, if I could have my way, he should be sent to the State's prison; it would only be too good for him. And you, Ella, you're the most foolish child that ever was seen! Why on earth couldn't you let the man's things alone? and when you had done the mischief, why need you go and tell on yourself? You'd a great deal better have let those great boys and girls take the whipping, for they were a great deal better able to bear it, and besides, it would have been divided amongst the four of them."

"But, aunt Prudence, it wouldn't have been right to let them be punished for what I did; and besides, poor Jonas gets so many beatings at home from his drunken father, and Mary Young is always so kind to me. Oh! I couldn't bear to see them whipped for what was my fault!"

"Nonsense, child!" said aunt Prudence; but she turned her back to Ella and wiped her eyes, and she was kinder to the poor, motherless child that evening, than she had ever been before. She actually put her arms around her, and kissed her.

"O aunt Prudence!" exclaimed Ella, her face beaming with delight, "I could almost thank Mr. Burton for whipping me so hard; it makes you so kind."

"You're thankful for very small favours then, I think," said aunt Prudence, getting up and going to the other side of the room to set a chair in its place.

CHAPTER II

Spring had come with its soft, warm breezes, the grass was springing up fresh and green, the trees were putting forth their leaves, the woods were full of violets and anemones, and the little birds, while busy building their nests, were filling the air with their happy songs of praise. The winter term of school was over; Mr. Burton had left, and the children had holidays for a few weeks, until it should be time for the summer school to commence. Ella rejoiced in the return of spring. She had been confined to the house for several weeks, until both she and her aunt were heartily tired of it, but now she was quite well again, and able to run about, and keenly did she enjoy the privilege of rambling through the woods in search of wild flowers, or working in the little spot of ground which her aunt had given her in the corner of the garden, digging up the soft earth and planting roots and flower seeds; and in these employments she was, to her great delight, allowed to spend most of her time, because, as aunt Prudence said, "She was glad to get her out of the house, for there was no such thing as keeping it to rights when she was in it."

"Why, Ellie child, what are you doing there?"

It was Mary Young who spoke. She had been taking a walk, and on her way home passed through the graveyard, that being her shortest route, and in so doing she had come suddenly and unexpectedly upon Ella, who was seated upon the ground, with a trowel in her hand and a small basket beside her. Ella, looking up and showing a face all wet with tears, answered:

"Planting violets on mother's grave."

"And watering them with your tears, you poor little thing," said Mary, sitting down and putting her arms around the child. "Ellie dear, I wish for your sake, that your mother was alive; that aunt Prudence of yours isn't very kind to you, is she?"

"No, not like mother was. O Mary, I do want to see my mother so bad," sobbed the poor child, laying her head on Mary's shoulder, "and aunt Prudence says I never will if I don't be good, and I can't be good without mother. Somehow, I'm almost always bad now-a-days."

"Why, Ellie, I don't think you're so very bad. I'm sure you don't tell lies like some children I know. You always speak the truth, even when you know that you'll be punished. I know you used to play and whisper in school sometimes, and blot your copy-book, or spill ink on your copy, or lose your books or pencil, or forget to bring them to school, and I know Mr. Burton used to get very angry, and scold and whip you, and to be sure it was naughty, but I don't think it was so very wicked; not half so bad, I'm sure, as telling lies."

"But, Mary, you told me to tell a lie one day when I came late to school; what made you do that, if you think it is so wicked?"

"Oh, because I didn't like to have you get whipped; I knew Mr. Burton would whip you so hard, and besides, I thought it wasn't a very bad story, because it wouldn't do any body any harm – only save you from a beating."

"Yes; but I remember my mother told me never, never to tell a lie; that it was very wicked, even if it didn't do any body any harm. But those are not all the naughty things I do, Mary; I'm always forgetting not to meddle, and always leaving my things about, and then when aunt Prudence scolds me, and boxes my ears, I get so angry, I feel as if I could almost kill her."

"O my! Ellie! that is very wicked; I didn't think you were so bad as that."

"Yes, I know it's very wicked, for I remember how mother used to talk to me about governing my temper, and that she said, when I got so angry, it was the same as being a murderer; but I can't help it; when aunt Prudence gets so mad, it always makes me mad too."

"Well, now, I wonder if it isn't just as wicked for her, as it is for you," said Mary.

"Oh, but she's grown up, you know; and I'm only a little girl."

"Well what of that? The Bible doesn't say big people may get angry, but little people mus'n't do it."

"No," said Ella, "I never heard that it did, and I know my mamma didn't get angry like aunt Prudence, but I never thought about it being wicked for her. But, O Mary, I wish I had somebody to help me to be good!"

"I would like to help you if I could, Ellie, but I'm just as bad as you are," said Mary. "I've heard people talking about getting good by praying, but I never tried it, so I can't tell you how it would do, but perhaps Miss Layton can when she comes."

"Miss Layton! who is she?" asked Ella.

"Haven't you heard about her? she's the new teacher, and they say she's very pious and good."

"Is she? when is she to come, Mary?"

"Week after next. Aren't you going to school, Ellie?"

"Yes, aunt Prudence says she is tired enough of having me about, and I shall go as soon as ever school begins again. I hope Miss Layton won't be as cross as Mr. Burton was; don't you, Mary?"

"Yes I do, and I know one thing, if she is as cross, she can't be very pious, for the Bible says people ought to be kind and patient, and it says, 'By their fruits ye shall know them,' so I'm sure if they don't try to govern their tempers, they can't be Christians."

"Aunt Prudence is kind about some things, Mary," said Ella, going on with her work, "she gave me a corner of her garden for my own, and she lets me work in it a great deal, and gives me all the seeds I want, and she lets me come here whenever I please, though she does think it is very foolish, and she gave me that rose bush to plant at mother's feet, and sent Jake, our gardener, to plant that willow tree. There I have planted all my violets, and I must go now, for it's almost tea time, and aunt Prudence won't like it if I'm late. Won't you call for me on the first school day, Mary? I don't like to go alone."

"Yes; good bye, Ellie."

"Good bye, Mary."

Ella looked forward to the commencement of school with mingled feelings. She thought a great deal of what Mary Young had said about Miss Layton, and wondered if she were anything like her mamma, and if she would really help her to be good. She sometimes felt as if she could hardly wait for the time to come, that she might satisfy herself on these points; and sometimes she wished vacation was longer – it was so much pleasanter to work in her garden, or wander about in the woods and fields gathering spring flowers, than to be shut up in the school room, and obliged to learn lessons.

The long looked for day had come at last. Nine o'clock was the hour, but Mary and Ella set off for the school room a little after eight, that they might be sure to be in season. It was a lovely morning and they enjoyed their walk very much. Though it was still quite early when they reached the school-house, they found it already half-filled with girls and boys, some seated on the benches, others collected in little groups here and there, talking in whispers to each other, while many a curious glance was sent across the room to the teacher's desk, where sat a pleasant-looking young lady, with a blank book before her, in which she was writing down the children's names.

"Come let's give her our names," said Mary, pulling Ella forwards as she spoke.

"You are scholars, I suppose," said Miss Layton, looking kindly at them; "what are your names?"

"Mine is Mary Young, and this is Ella Clinton."

The teacher wrote their names in the book, and then asked where their parents lived. Mary told her where hers resided, and then said, "Ellie has no parents, but lives with her aunt, Miss Prudence Clinton, in the same street that we live in."

"So you are an orphan, my poor child!" said Miss Layton, drawing the little girl to her, and kissing her cheek, "I know how to pity you, for I am one also; but we have a kind heavenly Father, Ellie, who, if we put our trust in him, will never leave nor forsake us."

Ella's heart was full; no one had ever spoken so kindly to her since her mother's death, and she longed to throw her arms around the lady's neck, and ask her to love her, and teach her to be good; but she was a rather timid child, and afraid to venture. She turned hastily away, and walked to her seat, where she laid her head on her desk, to hide the tears that would come, she hardly knew why.

When Miss Layton had written down all the names, she rung the bell, and the children took their seats. She waited a moment, until the slight bustle attending the movement was over, and all were quiet; she then said, "I wish you all to give me your attention; I have a few words to say to you before we begin our school. Dear children, we have met together this morning, for the first time as teacher and scholars; most of your faces I have never seen before; but we expect to spend some months in each other's society, and it is very desirable that we should begin and carry on our intercourse in a manner that will make it both pleasant and profitable to us all. But for any community of people to be able to live pleasantly together, it is necessary for them to have some form of government. There must be a head; some one to direct and control, or there will be endless quarrelling and confusion. Now, in a school, that place is naturally and properly filled by the teacher. Your parents, my dear children, have sent you here to be under my care; it will be my duty to direct your studies, and do all that I can for your mental and moral improvement, to treat you with kindness and forbearance, and to require of you only such things as are just and reasonable. It will be your duty to obey me, to be kindly affectioned one toward another, and to improve your time by steady industry. In short, it will be the duty of each of us, to be 'diligent in business, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord.' God, my dear children, has given to each of us a work to do, and he will take notice of, and one day call us to account for, the manner in which we perform our allotted tasks. If we are God's children, we will strive to serve and please him; and if we strive to do our duty because we wish to please him, we are really and truly engaged in his service. The more you know, my dear children, the more good you will be able to do in this world; now is the time for you to gain knowledge, and that is the work which God has given you to do; and the work he has given me, is to do all in my power to assist you in gaining that knowledge, which is to prepare you for future usefulness. I do not wish you to attend to your studies, as many children do, from fear of punishment, but from love to God and an earnest desire to please him; and I can assure you that if you act from that motive, you will find a great deal of pleasure in the performance of your duties."

Miss Layton now read a few rules, saying that she should expect them to be strictly observed. She then told the scholars to take out their Testaments to read, but not expecting to have any call for them, they had not brought them; and finding that to be the case, she read a few verses herself, sung a hymn, and then requested the children to rise and stand a few moments while she offered a short but fervent prayer for the blessing of God upon their labours. She next proceeded to class them, and give them their lessons for the day. Everything that the teacher did, was done quietly, without noise or bustle, and it seemed natural for the children to be quiet too, and to most of them the hours of school passed quickly and pleasantly away.

"Don't you like her, Mary?" said Ella to Mary Young, as they walked home together that afternoon.

"Very much so far, Ellie, but people don't always show what they are the first day."

"Well, I don't believe she'll ever be as cross as Mr. Burton," said Ella.

"I hope not, I'm sure," replied Mary.

Ella was very anxious to secure the esteem and friendship of her new teacher, and for a week or two learned her lessons so well, and observed all the rules of the school so carefully, that it seemed as if she had really overcome her bad habits of carelessness and inattention; but alas! it was not so. Miss Layton required her scholars to learn their lessons at home. They might look them over in school, but that was all. School hours were to be spent principally in writing, ciphering, and reciting.

The first week, Ella was very careful to learn her lessons perfectly before she went out to play, or to work in her garden; but one bright, warm afternoon in the latter part of the second week, she found it so much pleasanter out of doors, than in the house, that she determined to take a walk first, intending to get her lessons afterwards. Her walk took more time than she expected, and she found some wild flowers, which she admired so much that she dug them up and carried them home to plant them in her garden, saying to herself that it would not take long, and she would still have time for her lessons; but she was surprised in the midst of her employment, by a call to supper, and then a play mate came in to spend the evening and stayed until Ella's bedtime, and as she knew it would be worse than useless to attempt to persuade aunt Prudence to allow her to sit up any longer, she went to bed, with the determination to rise early and learn her lessons in the morning. But when morning came, she found her bed so comfortable that she slept on until she had barely time to dress for breakfast; then after breakfast her aunt sent her on an errand, and it was school time before she could look at her books.

Ella was very much alarmed, for Miss Layton required very perfect recitations, and expected her scholars to be very punctual in their attendance. She hurried off to school, got there barely in time, and then discovered that she had left her spelling book and geography at home. Then her slate pencil was missing. She was sure she had either put it in her pocket, or laid it in the corner of the desk, the night before, but in vain she lifted everything in the desk and turned her pocket inside out. The missing pencil was nowhere to be found.

The spelling class was called. Ella missed the first word that came to her, then the second. "Ella," said Miss Layton, "how many times did you go over your lesson?"

Ella hung her head and made no answer.

Miss Layton repeated her question.

"I didn't learn it at all," replied Ella, in a low voice.

"Then go to your seat," said her teacher, "and never come to me to recite a lesson that has not been learned, and remember that at the next recitation you take your place at the foot of the class."

Ella obeyed, feeling very much ashamed. The geography class was called next, but, remembering what had been told her, she sat still in her seat.

"Ella," said Miss Layton, "why do you not come to your class?" "I haven't learned the lesson, Miss Layton," said Ella.

Miss Layton said nothing further at the time, but looked very much displeased. It was now the hour for ciphering; all the other girls took out their slates and pencils, and were soon busily engaged. Ella alone sat idle. Mary Young handed her a pencil, but just then Miss Layton came up and asked, "Why are you not at work, Ella?"

"I've lost my slate pencil, ma'am."

"She can take this one of mine," said Mary Young; "I've got two."

"No," said Miss Layton, "that is against the rules; I allow no borrowing nor lending. As Ella has been so careless as to lose her pencil, she must sit idle while the rest are at work, and Ella, you must remain in after school, and tell me how it happens that you have so strangely failed in your lessons to-day."

Ella burst into tears. She felt very much ashamed, and very uncomfortable sitting there doing nothing while all the rest were busily employed. Sallie Barnes, who had borne a great dislike to Ella, ever since the affair of the broken inkstand, when she came so near being punished for her fault, was sitting opposite, and presently when Miss Layton was not looking that way, she began pointing her fingers at Ella, and shaming her. Ella was crying and Sallie mimicked her. Ella began to grow very angry. Sallie continued her teasing until at last, in a transport of rage, Ella picked up a book and dashed it across at her tormentor. She missed her aim and the book fell on the floor. Miss Layton saw it fall, but did not see who threw it.

Rising from her seat, she crossed the room, and asked, "Who threw that book?"

"Ella Clinton," said Sallie Barnes; "she threw it at me."

"Did you, Ella?"

"Yes, ma'am; and I'll throw another at her, if she doesn't quit pointing at me and mocking me," said Ella, passionately.

"Ella," said her teacher, sternly, "you are showing a very wicked temper. Go and sit down on that bench near my desk; and you, Sallie, tell me what you were doing to her."

"I didn't do anything," replied Sallie.

"Take care, Sallie; are you sure you are speaking the exact truth?" said Miss Layton.

"I didn't touch her, nor say a word to her," said Sallie.

"Sallie, answer me immediately and properly. You certainly did do something to Ella; what was it?"

"I was only shaming her a little, because she sat there crying just like a great baby."

"You did very wrong, indeed," said Miss Layton.

"I'm sure I didn't hurt her," said Sallie, sullenly.

"Yes, you did, Sallie," replied her teacher, "you hurt her feelings: and that is often harder to bear than bodily pain. I shall punish you by making you stand out on the floor fifteen minutes."

School had seldom seemed so long to Ella, and yet she was almost sorry to hear Miss Layton say, "School is dismissed;" so much did she dread being left alone with her justly offended teacher. Miss Layton sat at her desk, reading, until the other scholars had all gone, and she was left alone with Ella; then, closing her book, she called the little girl to her.

"Ella," said she, taking her hand and drawing her close to her side, "you have had very good lessons, and behaved very well all the time that I have been your teacher, until to-day. Now, tell me, my child, how it happens that to-day you have behaved so badly, and recited so poorly."

Miss Layton spoke very kindly, and Ella felt encouraged to open her heart to her, and tell her the whole truth; how she had put off learning her lessons, first for one thing, then for another, until there was no time to do it, and then, in her haste to get to school in season, had forgotten her books.

"I am glad, Ella," said Miss Layton, when the child had finished her story, "that you have told me the truth, instead of trying to contrive false excuses. I can forgive anything sooner than falsehood, for that is so very wicked. But you have been guilty of several very serious faults, Ella. Your first wrong step was preferring pleasure to duty. There is an old saying which I think is very true, 'Procrastination is the thief of time.'"

"What does procrastination mean, Miss Layton?" asked Ella, "I don't think I know exactly."

"It means deferring, delaying, or putting off until another time what ought to be done now. When we have a duty to perform, we should always attend to that first, and take our pleasure afterwards. But your worst fault to-day, Ella, was getting into such a dreadful passion. Don't you know, my dear child, that the Bible tells us that, when we indulge in angry passions, we break the sixth commandment, which says, 'Thou shalt not kill?'"

"Yes, ma'am, I know that; my mother used to tell me so, and I often think I never will get angry again, but I can't help it, when anybody teases me."

"No, Ella, if you trust in your own strength, you certainly cannot; but, my dear child, if you ask help of God, he will enable you to do it. I am afraid that you forgot to ask God this morning, to keep you from sin through the day, and if so, it is no wonder that you have behaved so wickedly."

"I did say my prayers this morning, Miss Layton," said Ella; "mamma told me I must always do it, and I always do."

"Ah, but, my child, did you really pray? did you think of the meaning of the words you were saying, and really desire what you were asking for? did you pray with your heart, or was it with your lips only?"

Ella hung her head. "I was in a hurry," she said in a low tone, "and said them very fast, for fear I wouldn't be ready for breakfast."

"Oh Ella, were you not afraid to approach the great God in that irreverent manner?" said Miss Layton. "Did you forget that, 'God is a spirit; and they that worship him, must worship him in spirit and in truth?' It is mocking the great God, when you repeat a form of prayer with your lips, while you are not praying in your heart, and that is a dreadful sin. The Bible tells us: 'By their fruits ye shall know them,' and you, Ella, have shown by your actions this day, that you are a child of wrath, even as others; that you have a very wicked heart – a heart at enmity with God; and, Ella, unless your heart becomes changed, you can never be fit to dwell with him; you would not be happy in his presence – in the presence of Him who is of purer eyes than to behold sin, and cannot look upon iniquity – even if allowed to go where he is; and every moment that you remain as you are, you are in danger of losing your immortal soul. O Ella, pray earnestly to God, to give you a new heart, for he alone can do it."

Ella was crying very bitterly. "O Miss Layton," said she, "will you ask God to forgive me, and to give me a new heart, and help me to pray right?"

"I will, my dear child," replied her teacher, and kneeling down, with her arm around the weeping child, she offered a short but earnest prayer, asking her heavenly Father to forgive the sins of that day and of all their lives, asking him to give the child a new heart – a heart hating sin and loving holiness, and to teach her to love prayer, and to pray aright.

"O, Miss Layton! You are more like my mamma, than anybody else." p. 59.

They rose from their knees, and Ella, throwing her arms around her teacher's neck, exclaimed, "O Miss Layton, you are more like my mamma than anybody else; nobody has ever prayed for me since she died, and I have so wanted somebody to help me to be good. You will help me now, won't you, dear Miss Layton?"

"I will do all I can, Ella," replied her teacher, returning the embrace, "but, my dear child, no one but God can really help you to be good. Promise me that you will every day ask him to help you."

"I will," said Ella, "and I will try to pray with my heart. But, Miss Layton, aunt Prudence says it is no use for such a wicked child as I am to pray; she says God won't hear me, and I would have stopped, but I remembered mother told me always to pray, and I thought she knew best."