CHILDREN AND CONFESSION.
[TO THE EDITOR OF THE "SPECTA.TOR.") STE,—Perhaps my experience on this subject may interest some of your readers. When I was a little girl of about five, I was, together with my sisters, being brought up by a Puritan lady of very strict, austere views. One day there was a great row in the house. A peach which was ripening on the garden wall, and which we had been forbidden to touch, was found to have been pinched and somebody's thumbnail dug into it. Suspicion fell on me, and was confirmed by my nail appearing to fit the mark. I had had nothing to do with it, but I was shaken, whipped, and locked up with nothing to eat except some bread and water and a cold rice-pudding, until such time as I confessed my fault. How well. I remember all my misery and the long weary hours, until the brilliant idea occurred to me to confess the act, innocent as I was, and get liberated. I rushed to the door, kicked it, and screamed out my penitence with sobs and tears, that were at much rage and hunger as any- thing else. But I had not looked far enough. "I was certain she had done it," exclaimed Mrs. F— triumphantly, " and to think of the way she denied it with the most innocent face ! Go back in there, you wicked little girl, and think of what happens to such children as you." The key was again turned in the lock, and I was left with the rice-pudding, now fast growing slimy and mouldy-looking. By this time my sufferings had touched the conscience of the real delinquent, the kitchenmaid, who at this point confessed it was she who had pinched the forbidden fruit. You would have thought that at least some reparation would have been made to me for all I had so unjustly suffered. Not at all. Mrs. F said I must be an artful limb of the devil. I was whipped again, worse than before, and when finally I was admitted back to the family circle it was with a large placard with "Liar" written on it fastened to my back. I have often wondered whether Mrs. F— had the faintest idea of the chaos of fury and bewilderment that filled my soul. I do not think so. I believe she honestly thought she was train- ing us right, and I remember that when in after years I met her again she expressed herself as having been always so very fond of me, and described the pleasure it had given her to guide my infant steps into the path they should go.—I am, Sir, &c., L. E. B.
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