his funny doings and sayings; or, if you prefer, you can make his
acquaintance, personally, in that charming place called _Clear
Comfort_.

THE STORY TOLD TO WILLIE.

"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."

[Illustration: "Shake a Paw on it."]

"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