at
it might be a serious injury to them to say or do anything to chill or
check their first independent attempt to lend a helping hand to others.
Then all at once out of his perplexity came this idea of allowing the
children from that time forward to have the privilege of inviting a
guest of their own choosing every Thanksgiving Day, and that this guest
should be some one who needed, in some way or other, home-cherishing and
kindness. They should have the privilege of choosing, but they must tell
us the one they had chosen, that we might send the invitation for them.
This plan delighted them; and from this start, five years ago, the thing
has gone on until it has grown into the present 'guest day,' where _each
one_ of the children may invite his or her particular guest. It has got
to be a very pleasant thing now, though at first we had some queer
times. But as the children grew older, they learned better how to
regulate matters, and to make necessary discriminations, and a year ago
we found we could trust them to invite their guests without any older
supervision, and they are very proud of this liberty, and very happy in
the whole thing; and such an education as it has been. You've no idea
how they have learned to think of others, to look about them to find
those who are in need not merely of food or clothing but of loving
attention and kindness."

"Well, it is beautiful, Mrs. Lambert, and what a Thanksgiving ought to
be,--what it was in the old pilgrim days at Plymouth, when those who had
more than others invited the less fortunate to share with them. It's
beautiful, and I wish everybody who could afford it would go and do
likewise."

"Speaking of affording it, I thought, when my husband died last spring,
I should have to give up our guest day with most other things, for you
know that railroad business that my husband entered into with his
half-brother John nearly ruined him. I think the worry and fret of it
killed him, anyway, and I told John so, and he has never forgiven me.
But I have never forgiven him, and never shall; for if it hadn't been
for John's representations, his continual urging, Charles would never
have gone into the business. Oh, I shall always hold John responsible
for his death, and I told him so."

"You told him so? How did he take that? What did he say?"

"Oh, you know John. He flew into a rage, and said he loved his brother
as well as _I_ did. As well as _I_ did! Think of that; and that he had