“Oh! mother, how glad I am
to see this soft white snow,” said Theodore Warden, a bright
faced boy, eight years old, on one cold stormy morning in January,
“for now I can play with my handsome sled, which father
gave me, as a New Year's Gift.”
“But,” inquired his mother, “do you know how
bitter cold the weather is, and how furiously the northeast
wind blows? Shall you be willing to run through the snow banks
and wade through the drifts, without crying and fretting, with
the pain of fingers and feet?”
“Why, yes! To be sure, I shall join my playmates, and
forget all about the weather when we are rolling up the balls
of snow, and building little houses, and coasting down hill,
and drawing each other on our sleds. We shall have grand fun
together; and mother, I have a name, too, for my little sled.
It is to be called Frolic, because I expect to have such a fine
time with it.”
“It gives me much pleasure, Theodore,” his mother
continued, “to see you so happy on this chilly morning,
for it manifests a right spirit, to welcome with joy the varieties
of each returning season, bringing as they do, additional tokens
of our Heavenly Father's goodness. I hope you will remember
to think of all these comforts, and not let a day pass without
being grateful for them, and trying to use them for your improvement.
But do you know that this cold storm, which affords you so much
pleasure, brings to many a family, even to some of our near
neighbors, a great deal of want and suffering? They have not
fuel enough to keep them warm, or tight rooms to shelter them
from the penetrating winds and snows, and they are not able
to purchase the necessary means of protection.”
“No, mother,” answered Theodore, “I am sure
I did not think any were so very destitute. Does the wind really
blow through the cracks of their dwellings and drive the snow
into them? Why how cold and sorrowful they must be, such a day
as this! Pray tell me where they live, and let me carry something
to make them comfortable.”
“I will see what we can do,” said Mrs. Marden, after
witnessing with much pleasure, the interest which her son manifested
in the sufferings of the poor, “but go now and learn your
lesson for this morning perfectly, and then come to me.”
In a short time, Theodore had finished his task, and was at
his mother's side, waiting anxiously for her answer. He was
a kindhearted boy, and always desired to assist those in trouble
or want. “I am all ready now,” he exclaimed, “let
me take something on my little sled to one of those neighbors
you spoke about.”
“Well,” she replied, “there is a poor, feeble
woman in our street, old Mrs. Jones, who would be very grateful
for some assistance, during this cold season. You may carry
to her some of our good dinner, which has just been cooked,
and as much dry wood as your sled will hold.”
With great delight he loaded his sled with the articles and
ran off, through the thickly falling flakes of snow, to the
cottage of the poor woman. He soon returned, however, and coming
into the house, his eyes sparkling with joy, and his face ruddy
with the kisses of the frosty air, hastened to his mother, and
said, “Oh! how much I thank you, dear mother, for this
pleasant morning. I have had a great deal better time, than
when I played with my companions, for I feel now, as though
I had done some real good. Mrs. Jones was so glad to see the
dish of warm meats, and the little pile of wood I carried, that
she thanked me a hundred times, and said I must tell you how
happy and comfortable the nice presents made her.”
-Published Feb. 12th, 1846-
