It
was delightful to see the affectionate gratitude of the widow and
child toward their benefactor. And that angel child, I wish I could do
justice to his filial devotion. He seemed, at that early age, to feel
as though he only lived to love and bless his mother. To be constantly
at her side, to wait upon her, even to study her wants and anticipate
her wishes, seemed to be the greatest joy of the little creature.
"Willie, why don't you eat your cake?" asked his uncle one day, when
Willie had been sent over to the doctor's on an errand, and had been
treated to a large slice of plumcake by his Cousin Elizabeth.
Willie silently began to nibble his cake, but with evident reluctance.
"Why, you do not seem to like it! Is it not good?"
"Yes, sir, thank you."
"Why don't you eat it, then?"
"My father," said Elizabeth.
"Well, Miss Dulan?"
"I think that Willie always carries every piece of cake he gets to his
mother."
"But why not always prevent that by sending her a piece yourself?"
"Because, my dear father, I think it may be wrong to restrain the
amiable spirit of self-denial evinced by the child."
"Then you are mistaken, Miss Dulan; and recollect that it is very
irreverent in a young lady to express an opinion at variance with the
spirit of what her father has just said.
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