"Sometimes it may happen we have a dear friend sick, nigh unto death; we have called in doctors and they have written down what medicine must be taken; we notice the busy apothecary making up the mixture, when lo, after putting three or four different things into the phial, he lays his hand upon a bottle labelled poison.
"'Hold,' we cry, 'you must not use that—poison! It will surely kill, instead of curing the patient!'
"'Not at all,' he answers, 'alone it would do so, but mingled with the rest, and working together with them, it is certain to turn out well.'
"Now this is how we should look at God's dealings with us; all our trials and troubles, that threaten to bring us with sorrow to the grave, are working together. One day we shall shout with joy at the result. God's providence led George and his mother through deep waters of affliction, but the hand of God was in it all and gave a blessing at the end."
"And what became of George, grandpa?"
"He grew up to be a man."
"And what then?"
"Then he was married, and had sons and daughters of his own."
"And what then?"
"Then he grew old, and saw his children married, and have little ones, who called him grandfather, and on one cold, sharp, wintry night he told the story of his early life, with a pretty dark-haired girl looking up into his eyes, whose name was Annie!"