IT’S VERY hard to have nothing to eat but bread and milk, when others have every sort of nice things,” muttered Charlie, as he sat with his wooden bowl before him. “It’s very hard to have to get up so early on these cold mornings, and to work all day, when others can enjoy themselves without an hour of labor. It’s very hard to have to trudge along through the mud, while others roll about in their carriages.”
“It’s a great blessing,” said his grandmother, as she sat at her knitting, — “it’s a great blessing to have food, when so many are hungry; to have a roof over one’s head, when so many are homeless. It’s a great blessing to have sight, and hearing, and strength for daily labor, when so many are blind, deaf, or suffering.”
“Why grandmother, you seem to think that nothing is hard,” said the boy, still in a grumbling tone.
“No, Charlie, there is one thing that I think very hard.”
“What’s that!” cried Charlie, who thought that at last his grandmother had found some cause of complaint.
“Why, boy, I think that heart is very hard that is not thankful to God for present blessings.”
ML 08/14/1904