STORY ABOUT AN INDIAN.


A poor sick man might go to the door of some rich person's house and

ask relief for himself and not be able to obtain admittance; but if he

brought in his hand a paper written by the son of the master of the

house, whom he had met with in a distant land, and in his name asked

for the relief, his request would be granted for the sake of the

master's son.



Now we all need friends and every one tries to get a
d keep a few

friends. Children will love a little dog, or a lamb, or a dove, or a

bird. The little boy will talk to his top, and the little girl will

talk to her doll, which shows that they want a friend; and if the top

and doll could talk and love them, they would feel happier.



Some years ago there was an Indian in the State of Maine, who for his

very good conduct had a large farm given him by the State. He built

his little house on his land, and there lived. The white people about

did not treat him so kindly as they ought. His only child was taken

sick and died, and none of the whites went to comfort him, or to

assist him in burying his little child. Soon after, he went to the

white people, and said to them--"When white man's child die, Indian

may be sorry--he help bury him--when my child die, no one speak to

me--I make his grave alone. I can no live here, for I have no friend

to love me."



The poor Indian gave up his farm, dug up the body of his child, and

carried it with him 200 miles through the forest, to join the Canada

Indians.



The Indian loved his child, and he wanted friends. So you children

will need a friend to look to every day. When we are sick, in

distress, or about to die, we want a friend in whom we may trust and

be happy.






Wherefore did God create passions within us, pleasures round about

us, but that these, rightly tempered, are the very ingredients of

virtue.--_Milton_.



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