S. But why should not papa be as rich as any body else? I am sure he deserves it as well. Mrs. M. Do you not think there are a great many people poorer than your papa, who are quite as good? S. Are there ? Mrs. M. Yes, to be sure. Don't you know what a number of poor people there are, all around us, who have very few of the comforts which we enjoy'? What do you think of Jones, the labourer'? I believe you never saw him idle in your life. S. No, he is gone to work long before I am up, and he does not return till almost bed time, unless it be for his dinner. Mrs. M. How do you think his wife and children live? Should you like that we should change places with them? S. Oh, no! they are so dirty and ragged. Mrs. M. They are indeed, poor creatures, but I am afraid they suffer worse evils than that. S. What, mamma ? Mrs. M. Why, I am afraid they do not often get as much food as they want to eat. And then, in winter, they must be half frozen for want of fire and warm clothes. How do you think you could bear all this? S. Indeed, I don't know. But I have seen Mrs. Jones carry great brown loaves into the house; and I remember once eating some brown bread and milk, and I thought it very good. Mrs. M. I believe you would not like it constantly; besides, Jones's children cannot get enough of that. But you seem to know almost as little of the poor, as the young French Princess did. S. What was that, mamma? Mrs. M. There was one year so little food in France, that numbers of poor people starved to death. This was mentioned before the king's daughters. 'Dear me," said one of the young princesses, "how silly that was! Why rather than starve, I would eat bread and cheese." She was then told that the greatest part of the people in France scarcely ever eat any thing better than black bread, all their lives; and that many of them would think themselves happy to get enough of that. The young princess was sorry for this; and she parted with some of her fine things, that she might help the poor. S. I hope there is nobody starred in our country. Mrs. M. I hope not; if any cannot work, it is our duty to help them. S. De you think it was wrong for Miss Harriet to have all these fine things? The money which they cost might have relieved a great many poor people. Mrs. M. Miss Harriet has money enough to be charitable to the poor, and to indulge herself in such things as she likes. Might not the children of Mr. White, the baker, and Mr. Shape, the tailor, if little Sally Meanwell should be indulged in her pl ures? Are you not better dressed than they are is not your baby house better furnished than theirs? S. Why, I believe so; I remember Polly White was very glad of one of my old dolls, and Nancy Shape cried for such a sash as mine, but her mother would not let her have one. Mrs. M. Then you see, my dear, that there are many who have fewer things to be thankful for, than you have. Every thing ought to suit the station in which we live, or are like to live. Your papa and I are willing to lay out part of our money, for the pleasure of our children; but it would be wrong in us to lay out so much, that we should not have enough to pay for your education, and other necessaries. Besides, you would not be happier, if you had a coach to ride in, and were better dressed than you are now. S. Why, mamma? Mrs. M. Because, the more of such things we have, the more we want. Which, think you, enjoys a ride in a coach most, you or Miss Harriet. S. I suppose I do. Mrs. M. But if you were both told that you should never ride in a coach again, which would think it the greatest hardship? You could walk, you k ow, as you have always done before; but she would rather stay at home, I believe, than expose herself to the cold wind, and trudge about in the wet and dirt. all S. I believe so too; and now mamma, I see that you have told me is very right. Mrs. M. I am glad of it, my dear; so, now make yourself contented, and cheerful in your station, which you see, is so much happier than that of many children. CHAP. LXIII. GEORGE WASHINGTON. 1. On a fine morning in the fall of 1737, Mr. Washington, having little George by the hand, came to the door and asked my cousin and myself to walk with him to the orchard, promising to show us a fine sight. On arriving at the orchard, we were presented with a fine sight indeed. The whole earth, as far as we could sce, was strewed with fruit: and yet the trees were bending under the weight of apples, which hung in clusters, like grapes, and vainly strove to hide their red cheeks behind the green leaves. son 2. "Now, George," said his father, "look here, my ! don't you remember, when this good cousin of yours brought you that fine large apple last spring, how hardly I could prevail on you to divide with your brothers and sisters; though I promised you that if you would but do it, God Almighty would give you plenty of apples this fall ?" 3. Poor George could not say a word; but hanging down his head, looked quite coniused, while with his little naked toes he scratched in the soft ground."Now look up, my son," continued his father, "and see how richly that blessed God has made good my promise to you. Wherever you turn your eyes, you see the trees loaded with Lae fruit, many of them indeed breaking down, while the ground is covered with mellow apples, more than you could ever eat, my son, in all your life time." 4. George looked in silence on the wide wilderness of fruit; he marked the busy hunming bees, and heard the gay notes of birds, then lifting his eyes filled with shining moisture, he said, softly, to his father, "Well, Pa, only forgive me this time, and see if I ever be so stingy any inore." 5. When George was about six years old, he was made the wealthy master of a hatchet! of which, like most boys, he was immoderately fond, and was constantly going about, chopping every thing that came in his way. 6. One day in the garden, where he had often amused. himself hacking his mother's pea-bushes, he unluckily tried the edge of lis hatchet on the body of a beautiful young English cherry tree, which he barked so terribly, that I don't believe the tree ever got the better of it. 7. The next morning, the old gentleman, finding out what had befallen his favourite tree came into the house, and asked for the author of the mischief, declaring at the same time, that he would not have taken five guineas for the tree. 66 8. No body could tell him any thing about it. Presently George and his little hatchet made their appearance. George" said his father, "do you know who killed that beautiful little cherry tree yonder in the garden? 9. This was a tough question; and George staggered under it for a moment'; but quickly recovered himself; and looking at his father, with the sweet face of youth, brightened with the charm of honesty, he bravely cried out, "I can't tell a lie, Pa; you know I can't tell a lie. I did it with my little hatchet." 10. "Run to my arms, my dearest boy," said his father; 66 you have paid me for my tree a thousand times; and i hope my son will always be hero enough to tell the truth, let come what will come." CHAP. LXIV. THE APPLE TREE. 1. Old John had an apple tree healthy and green, Which bore the best codlings that ever were seen, So juicy, so mellow and red; And when they were ripe, as old Jonny was poor, He sold them to children that pass'd by his door, To buy him a morsel of bread. 2. Little Dick, his next neighbour, one often might see, With longing eye viewing this nice apple tree, And wishing a codling would fall; One day, as he stood in the heat of the sun, |