sure it affords your parents to see you
happy. They are willing to make almost any sacrifice for your good.
And they never have more heartfelt enjoyment themselves than when
they see their children virtuous, contented, and happy. When they
refuse to gratify any of your desires, it is not because they do not
wish to see you happy, but because they see that your happiness will
be best promoted by refusing your request. They have lived longer in
the world than you, and know better than you the dangers by which you
are surrounded. Deeply interested in your book, you desire to sit up
later than usual, and think it would make you happy. But your mother,
who is older and wiser, knows that the way to make children healthy
and happy, is to have them in the regular habit of retiring early at
night. And when you ask to sit up later than usual, she loves you too
well to permit it. You think she is cruel, when, in fact, she is as
kind as she can be. If she were an unkind mother, and cared nothing
about your happiness, she would say, "O yes; you may sit up as long
as you please. I do not care any thing about it."

Now, is it obedience, when your kind mother is doing all in her power
to make you happy, for you to look sullen and morose? Is it honoring
your father and your mother, for you to look offended and speak
unkindly, because they wish you to do that which they know to be for
your welfare? The truly grateful child will endeavor, always, with a
pleasant countenance, and a peaceful heart, to yield ready obedience
to his parents' wishes. He will never murmur or complain. Such a child
can retire to bed at night contented and happy. He can sincerely
thank God for all his goodness and pray for that protection which
God is ever ready to grant those who love him.

CHAPTER IV.

OBEDIENCE, (continued)

There is hardly any subject upon which children in well-regulated
families feel more like complaining-, than of the unwillingness of
their parents to indulge them, in evening plays and evening visits.
An active boy, whose heart is full of fun and frolic, is sitting
quietly by the fireside, in a pleasant winter evening. Every now and
then he hears the loud shouts and joyful laugh of some twenty of his
companions, who are making the moonlight air ring with their
merriment. Occasionally, a troop of them will go rushing by the
windows, in the impetuosity of their sports. The ardent little fellow
by the fireside can hardly conta