courageous heart, we tamely sink under its weight, then we virtually say, "I can't;" when things go contrary to our wishes, if, instead of quietly submitting and making the best of it, our turbulent passions are stirred up in revolt, we say, "I sha'n't;" and when the blessed Saviour whispers, "Give me thy heart," and our inclinations rise in opposition, we virtually say, "I won't", to the winning call, which, if listened to and obeyed, would secure for us God's special care while here and a life of blessedness hereafter.
These words were spoken by a girl of thirteen years to her invalid mother; and now that you know this, children, they sound more ungracious than ever, do they not? To think that a child would speak thus to a sick parent seems doubly unkind and undutiful. But Nattie Nesmith had seen her mother in feeble health for a long while, and did not think much of it, save that it was "stupid and hateful to have a complaining old woman around all the time."
