Present or absent, it was fear of his displeasure that kept us in the straight and narrow path.

In the minds of us children he was as much represented, when away from home, by the strap hanging on the wall as by his portrait which stood on a parlor table, in a gorgeous frame adorned with little shells.

Almost everybody's father had a strap, but our father's strap was more formidable than the ordinary.

For one thing, it was more painful to encounter personally, because it was not a simple strap, but a bunch of fine long strips, clinging as rubber.
My father called it noodles; and while his facetiousness was lost on us children, the superior sting of his instrument was entirely effective.
In his leisure, my father found means of instructing us other than by the strap.

He took us walking and driving, answered our questions, and taught us many little things that our playmates were not taught.
From distant parts of the country he had imported little tricks of speech and conduct, which we learned readily enough; for we were always a teachable lot.