in the world to come. A day of
judgment is at hand, and the ungrateful child has as fearful an
account to render as any one who will stand at that bar.

I have just spoken to you of the grateful girl who took such good care
of her poor sick mother. When that good girl, dies, and meets her
mother in heaven, what a happy meeting it will be! With how much joy
will she reflect upon her dutifulness as a child! And as they dwell
together again in the celestial mansions, sorrow and sighing will for
ever flee away. If you wish to be happy here or hereafter, honor your
father and your mother. Let love's pure flame burn in your heart and
animate your life. Be brave, and fear not to do your duty. Be
magnanimous, and do more for your parents than they require or expect.
Resolve that you will do every thing in your power to make them happy,
and you will be blest as a child, and useful and respected in your
maturer years. Oh, how lovely is that son or daughter who has a
grateful heart, and who will rather die than give a mother sorrow!
Such a one is not only loved by all upon earth, but by the angels
above, and by our Father in heaven.

It may assist you a little to estimate your obligations to your
parents, to inquire what would become of you if your parents should
refuse to take care of you any longer. You, at times, perhaps, feel
unwilling to obey them: suppose they should say,

"Very well, my child, if you are unwilling to obey us, you may go
away from home, and take care of yourself. We cannot be at the
trouble and expense of taking care of you unless you feel some
gratitude."

"Well," perhaps you would say, "let me have my cloak and bonnet, and
I will go immediately."

"YOUR CLOAK AND BONNET!" your mother would reply. "The cloak and
bonnet are not yours, but your father's. He bought them and paid for
them. Why do you call them yours?"

You might possibly reply, after thinking a moment, "They are mine
because you gave them to me."

"No, my child," your mother would say, "we have only let you have
them to wear. You never have paid a cent for them. You have not even
paid us for the use of them. We wish to keep them for those of our
children who are grateful for our kindness. Even the clothes you now
have on are not yours. We will, however, give them to you; and now
suppose you should go, and see how you can get along in taking care of
yourself."

You rise to leave the house without any bonnet or cloak. But your
mother