ricate them from their difficulties, and
make a longer tale."

"But what's the moral of your story?" said practical, matter-of-fact
John. "I don't see much use in a tale, unless there's a regular drawn
moral in it, that everybody can discover at once."

"Oh nonsense! I do hate morals!" said Cornelia. "Just as if we were to
be instructed the whole livelong day, and never to have amusement
without a good reason being given! That's too tiresome! I always skip
the morals and the _good talk_, when I read stories--if they're
pleasant, that's enough: I hate to be cheated into a sermon when I want
a story. I feel something as the man did who was fishing for a pike: he
caught a cat-fish instead, and throwing it back into the river,
exclaimed, 'When I go a-catting, I go a-catting; but when I go a-piking,
I go a-piking.'"

"I'm afraid a good many people think as you do, Cornelia," said Mrs.
Wyndham, laughing. "But perhaps we can find a moral for John, if we look
sharply enough. Let's see--there are good, kind people in every race, of
every complexion; and if we only make the most of our opportunities,
there are means of education open to all who have eyes and ears, and
willing minds. Do you see any other moral?"

"Oh yes, indeed!" replied Ellen. "When the Buckinghams were deprived of
their child, it was a sort of punishment to them for disobedience to
their parents; and they understood it in that way."

"True enough," said Mr. Wyndham. "And I have often noticed that
disobedient children are punished in after life, by means of their own
offspring: either by their suffering or death, or, still more
frequently, by their ingratitude and disrespectful conduct. And then
they feel themselves, as their parents did before them,

'How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is,
To have a thankless child!'"

"I have often remarked this also," rejoined Mrs. Wyndham. "And it
appears to be consistent with all the dealings of the Disposer of
events: He himself says that He will treat us as we treat our
fellow-creatures: 'With the merciful thou wilt show thyself merciful,
and with the just thou wilt show thyself just, and with the froward thou
wilt show thyself froward.'"

"And, when we notice these coincidences, is it not an argument for a
superintending Providence?" said Tom Green.

"Undoubtedly it is," replied his uncle; "and although evil conduct here
is frequently unpunished, being left for the more perfect retributions
o