"Oh, dear mamma!" said Willie, one pleasant summer's afternoon, "do, please, tell me a story--ah, d-o!" and the little fellow put up his rosy mouth and kissed his mother; well knowing that she could not resist his entreaty, backed by so sweet a bribe. What mother can?
"Oh, you little rogue!" answered his mother, returning the caress, "I have told you every story I can recollect, at least twenty times each. Why not run out in the garden with your nice new ball, lying there on the floor, and see how high you can throw it up in the air? You must take more exercise in the open air, my dear little Willie. Let us make a bargain. If you will play half an hour, and come in with a pair of rosy cheeks, I will try to have a story ready for you--a _new_ story."
"Oh, delightful!" cried Willie, and--accustomed to give his mother _instant_ obedience--he caught up his ball and ran off, to obey her, with a sweet, pleasant expression in his face.
Dear little children, it makes such a wonderful difference how you obey your parents. If a boy is requested by his mother to leave his play and go upon an errand for her, and he goes slowly, making dreadful faces, and muttering to himself, "Dear me, why couldn't she send some one else; I _hate_ to go!" do you think he gives his mother as much pleasure as when he says, "Yes, mamma, of course I will!" and runs off to do her bidding with two pleasant dimples in his cheeks? Which is the best way? I think Willie knew. Do you?
Willie was an only child. He had large blue eyes, fair curling hair, and dimpled cheeks; but I am sorry to say his cheeks were pale, for his constitution was very delicate, and, though a frolicksome little fellow, he very soon tired of play, and his greatest pleasure was to sit by his mother and listen to some interesting story.
Solomon has written in the Good Book that "even a child is known by his doings, whether his work be pure, and whether it be right." Children should never forget this. Willie tried to remember it; for he was so obedient, so thoughtful, and so loving, that I am sure, if he is permitted to live, he will grow up a good man.
While Willie was playing, his kind mother, true to her promise, went into the next room, where was a large book-case, to try and find some story that would interest and amuse her little son. Presently she opened a book, in which she chanced upon a story which she thought she could so simplify to his childish understanding as to interest him exceedingly. At this moment, Willie came bounding in--a delicate bloom on his cheeks, and his blue eyes sparkling.