"Indeed, my dear child," said I, kissing her and wiping the tears from her face, "I am not angry, nor am I at all surprised that you should be tired of this unpleasant bandage, but you will not now have to bear it long. This is Thursday—on Sunday the doctor says he will take it off altogether. You will try, I hope, for the next two days to bear it as cheerfully, and think of it as little as possible."
"Oh yes, ma'am! indeed I will,—I will not say another word about it."
"And now, my dear little girl, I would have you remember in all your troubles, little and great, that He who sends them is God, your kind and tender heavenly Father. Do you think, Alice, that your mother would willingly make you suffer pain?"
"No, ma'am, I am sure she would not."
"And yet she has given you, since you were sick, very bad-tasted and sickening medicine, and even put a blister on you, which must have given you great pain. Why was this?"
"To save me from being more ill, and having greater pain, and to make me well," said Alice, in a very low voice.
"True, my dear child; and God, who tells us in the Bible that he loves us better than even mothers love their children, never, we may be sure, suffers any pain or trouble to come upon us which is not to save us from greater pain, to make us better. Remember this, and it will help you to bear a great many things easily, which would otherwise seem very hard and fret you very much. Harriet, can you not repeat for Alice those lines you learned the other day, called a conversation between a mother and her sick child?"
As Alice looked very grave, I pressed her little hand in mine, and without speaking went out of the room, as Harriet began to recite the lines which I will set down here, as I think my little readers would like to see them.
Conversation between a Mother and her sick Child.
CHILD.