It was a clear, crisp, sparkling winter morning. Coasting never was better, and Joe and Will were as merry as ever, but Frankie did not enjoy it.
“What’s the matter, Frank?” asked Joe, seeing his sorrowful expression. “Fingers cold?”
“No,” said Frankie, “but I am going home,” and without a word of explanation he ran off. Rushing into the sitting-room, his eyes filled with tears, he put his arms around his mother’s neck and said, “O mamma, I am sorry.”
“So am I, darling,” said his mother, kissing the tearful face. “Sit down here by me and we will talk a little about the Sabbath, and see why it is my little boy dislikes it so much.”
“I would like it, mamma, only it is so long. I don’t like to keep so still, and I get so sleepy in church, and I keep thinking about my sled and the fun I could have if it wasn’t Sunday.” He paused, quite satisfied that he had made a good case for himself, and his mother, taking up her sewing, told him, in her low, calm tones, the following story.
“A father sent his little boy on a long journey, through a dark and dangerous way; but before bidding him good-bye, he gave him a letter which would tell him how to escape the dangers, and how to find the way through the darkness. This is what he said to the child, who stood all eagerness and haste to be gone.
“‘My child, you are just starting on your journey. You are full of life and hope, and the way looks bright before you, but even in this broad, sunny path, are many dangers; and, as you travel further, the path narrows, the flowers are fewer, and the forest is darker; still further on, are rocks, and underbrush, and pitfalls, and at the end of this rough way is a dark and rapid river which you must cross. If you pass over this stream safely, you will find yourself in a beautiful place. In that land I will give you a home, and you shall live with me forever.’
“‘But how can I go all that dark way, father?’ and the boy’s face was full of doubt and fear.
“The father handed him a letter, saying,
“‘This letter will tell you just what to do. Whenever you are in trouble, look at this. Nothing can happen to you about which this will not help you. But you are not to travel all the time. Every seventh day you shall pause in your journey to rest and read this letter, and think of all I have told you, and of the pleasant home to which you are going. It will give you so much strength, and make your heart so light and happy that you can travel faster and further than if you had not stopped.’