A little girl about three years old was sent upstairs and told to sit on a certain chair that was in the corner of her room, as a punishment for something she had done but a few minutes before.
Soon the silence was broken by the little one's question: "Mother, may I come down now?"
"No, you sit right where you are."
"All right, 'cause I'm sittin' on your best hat."
It is less to suffer punishment than to deserve it.—Ovid.
If Jupiter hurled his thunderbolt as often as men sinned, he would soon be out of thunderbolts.—Ovid.
The school teacher, after writing to the mother of a refractory pupil, received this note in reply:
"Dear miss, you writ me about whippin my boy i hereby give you permission to lick him eny time it is necessary to lern him lessuns hes jist like his paw you have to lern him with a club please pound nolej into him i want him to git it don't pay no attenshun to his paw either i'll handle him."
The little boy dashed wildly around the corner, and collided with the benevolent old gentleman, who inquired the cause of such haste.
"I gotta git home fer maw to spank me," the boy panted.
"Bless my soul!" exclaimed the old gentleman, "I can't understand your being in such a hurry to be spanked."
"I ain't. But if I don't git there 'fore paw, he'll gimme the lickin'."
The little lad sat on the curb howling lustily. A passer-by halted to ask what was the matter. The boy explained between howls that his father had given him a licking. The sympathizer attempted consolation:
"But you must be a little man, and not cry about it. All fathers have to punish their children sometimes."
The lad ceased howling long enough to snort contemptuously, and to explain: "Huh! my paw ain't like other boys' paws. He plays the bass drum in the band!"