you,’ I said; and I repeated the words ‘thank you’ every time anything was passed to me.

“At last these rude children began to laugh.

“‘Who are you thanking so much?’ asked one. ‘We never say “thank you.” We get all we can without any such fuss.’

“‘At home,’ I answered, ‘I was always taught to say “thank you” for every civility. I think it is much pleasanter to do so. Wont you try it?’

“They began at once, in mockery, to pass each other cake and cheese, laughing rudely as they repeated the words, ‘thank you.’ I was never so much disgusted, and must confess, that before we left the supper-table, I felt somewhat as Frederick did when Mrs. Perry treated his kindness so coolly.”

“How long did you have to stay there, ma?”

“Two days. I was never so homesick. The mother was a hardworking woman, toiling from morning to night for her family. One evening she sat up till midnight finishing a pair of mittens for her oldest son. She told him of this the next morning; but he did not express one word of gratitude. He only said,—

“‘You might have finished them earlier if you’d been a mind to!’”

“I would have snatched them right away,” exclaimed Hatty.

“His mother had never taught him to be grateful. She did not seem to expect any thanks; but when he had left the room she sighed heavily as she said,—

“‘It’s hard to please children, do what you will.’”

“Is that the story you promised us, ma?” inquired Frederick.

“No, dear; I happened to think of that visit, when you said you loved to do anything for your sister because she thanks you so heartily.”

“Do you suppose it was that visit, ma, that made you so particular always to say ‘thank you’ when I bring in wood, or find eggs, or any such things?”

“I was so disgusted, Fred, with the want of gratitude to their hardworking mother, and, indeed, with the absence of common civility, I may have thought more on the subject; but I trust you will find, wherever you go, that those who are most grateful to God for his mercies are most inclined to thank each other.”

CHAPTER V.

THE UNGRATEFUL SON.

HATTY is all ready now, ma.”

“It is not a very long story, my dear; but it shows God’s displeasure at ingratitude to parents.

“In Birmingham, England, there once lived a family who were poor. The father died, at last, and all the younger children, leaving the widow with her two eldest sons. At this time, they had gone into business, and were able to assist her; but they forgot all she had done for them, often denying herself food that they might have enough. They forgot the days and nights she had watched by them in sickness; and, when she humbly entreated a little help, they refused her.

“She was so feeble that she could do little for her own support, and was obliged with great reluctance to apply to the parish for assistance.

“For two years she received the small sum of two shillings a week from the overseers of the poor, which, with a little help from some Christian friends, was all she had to live upon.

“During this time the younger of these two sons died; not peacefully on his bed, trusting that Jesus would forgive all his sins, but in the most terrible agony both of body and mind, cursing and raving because he must leave all his property, and go to a world of darkness.

“The eldest son was shrewd in his business, and in a few years became rich. He was still unmarried; but he refused again and again to assist his mother, though many persons applied to him in her behalf. He held offices of trust in the city, but still allowed his infirm mother to eke out her poor existence on the parish allowance.

“At last his ungrateful, inhuman conduct rendered him so notorious that he caused her name to be struck off the parish books, and allowed her the two shillings from his own pocket; but not a penny more, even when he was possessed of thousands of pounds.

“One day some friends of the old lady were assembled, among whom was her clergyman. They expressed great indignation at the base ingratitude of the son, and proposed that a remonstrance be drawn up.

“‘No,’ said the minister; ‘if that man dies possessed of the property which he is now worth, I shall be greatly deceived. God will never suffer such base ingratitude to prosper.’

“Shortly after, the mother died a happy death, and very soon the prospects of her wicked son began to change. He met with great losses; and finally he was reduced to poverty as abject as his mother’s had been. No one pitied him; but all felt his suffering was richly deserved, and was a just punishment for his sin.”

“What a wicked man!” cried Frederick. “I would never do so; I would have you live with me, ma, and take care of you all your life.”

Mrs. Carleton kissed her boy and softly whispered in his ear,—

“Thank you, my darling;” and then it was time for them to get their Bibles, and read aloud in turn. Afterward Mrs. Carleton knelt, and prayed for herself and her absent husband, and for their dear children, that God would make them sensible of all his blessings and would give them hearts to praise him for his great mercies.

Fred usually fell asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow; but this night he was very wakeful. The stories he had heard, both from his teacher and his mother, led him to think of the end of wicked men; and he resolved, as he had never done before, that, with God’s help, he would try to be a consistent Christian.

Especially he thought of his father, and wondered where he was, how soon he would be home, and what kind of a present he would bring this time.

Fred’s father was a sea-captain. He had once been very successful in business; but two years before the time I have written about, his vessel was wrecked, and he barely escaped with his life.

As he could not afford to lose his time in waiting for the command of a new ship, he took the situation of first mate, in which he had continued ever since. It was now a few days more than a year since he sailed, and Hatty noticed that her mother began to watch the clouds more than she had done, while she supposed him too far off the coast to be affected by storms. Still as he was not now the captain, he might not be able to leave the vessel at once, even if it had arrived in port.

Mrs. Carleton said little to her children of the subject which filled her heart; but night after night, while they were soundly sleeping, she prayed that he from whom she had been separated so many weary months might be brought in safety to his home.

CHAPTER VI.

THE STRANGE VISITOR.