"'I am now more convinced than ever, that the most essential thing for parents is to bring up their children in the fear and love of God, to make them submissive and respectful to their parents. Recollect the commandment, "Honor thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee:" and the injunction, "Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right"—and not only so, but to teach them to be respectful, and kind, and generous to all their neighbors.
"'To effect this, the first, the essential point, is to teach them to subdue and control their self-willed and unruly inclinations. The heart of the child is like the ploughed field: thorns and thistles must be torn out before it can produce fruitful corn. This is of equal necessity in all children, whether born under the thatch, or beneath the gilded dome; whether destined to hold the plough, the quill of office, or the sword.'
"The countess was right, dear children, in all that she said. George would never have been the good lad that he was—for he was a good lad, and I do not wish to deny it—except it had been for the teachings of his mother. Under God, he owed it all to her. To her prayers, to her teachings, all that he did is to be traced—she had taught him industry, kindness, and a desire to help those who needed help, and above all other things, to look to God; and by God's blessing, he profited by her instruction. The good seed sown in his heart, sprung up to God's glory.
"The news of her son's good fortune soon reached the widow. At first she refused to believe a word of it, for she could not think it possible that George, who never followed the hunt, who never used lances, or bows and arrows, and who never even killed a little bird; who was even a boy still, not even a young man, could kill so terrible a brute.
"'Surely,' she said, 'this story is a pure invention. Sorry am I to find that I am so treated; it almost brings the tears into my eyes.'
"The more she thought about it, the more incredible the tale appeared. Her grief for her loss was stirred up afresh; but at last adown the village street came George himself, driving the sleekest, handsomest cow you ever saw, and one of the castle's servants with him; and from his own lips she learned the story of his bravery. The widow was greatly amazed, and falling on the neck of her son, wept bitterly; but not with grief—they were tears of joy that she was shedding, and her widowed heart began to sing for joy.
"George took his mother by the hand and led her outside the door.
"'Come out and see the cow which our good friend Knight Ulrich has sent to you; I am sure you will be pleased with the present.'
"Pleased! Ay, that she was, dear heart, and kissed her son again and again, as the servant retold the story of his courage.