•  1 min. read  •  grade level: 10
Traveling once on a train, among my fellow passengers was a little child who romped and was at home with everybody. Had anyone looked at her while she was frolicking thus, he would not have been able to tell to whom she belonged—she seemed to be the property of everyone. But soon the engine gave a loud blast as we plunged into a dark tunnel, and in a moment the child flew like a bird to nestle herself in a lady's lap. I knew then who was her mother. So in the day of prosperity, there may not be very much to tell whom one belongs to, but let him be sent through some dark tunnel of affliction, and you will see at once to whom he belongs.