“‘It is a long time till spring,’ said Harry, with rather a discontented air; ‘and then we must wait much longer while the corn is growing. It is a very long time to wait.’
“‘Come, Master Hal,’ rejoined his mother, ‘I fear you are one of those who cannot be satisfied, no matter how many blessings are heaped upon them. Remember how many are worse off than yourself—how many are without bread, even where it is plentiest. No doubt, at this moment many a hungry boy in the streets of wealthy London is standing by the baker’s window, and gazing at the crisp loaves, with no more chance to eat one of them than you have. He is worse off than you. You have other food—plenty of it—he has none; and, moreover, his hunger is rendered more acute and painful by the sight of the tempting food—separated from his hand only by a pane of glass. Poor boy! that pane of glass is to him a wall of adamant. Think upon this, my son, and learn to be contented.’
“‘Indeed, I am so, mamma,’ replied Harry, with a look of contrition. ‘I did not mean to complain. I was only thinking how nice it would be to have bread, now that we have got both sugar and coffee.’
“‘Ah! now, my good Harry,’ said his mother, ‘since I find you in the proper spirit, I think I must tell you about another curious and useful tree, of which, perhaps, you have not heard.’
“‘A bread-fruit now, I’m sure? No, it cannot be that; for I have heard of the bread-fruit.’
“‘Still, it might very appropriately be called a bread-fruit, since, during the long winter months, it furnishes bread to many tribes of Indians; indeed, not bread alone, but subsistence—as it is the only food these improvident people have.’
“‘I am sure I have never heard of that tree.’
“‘Well, I imagine not, as it is not long since it was discovered and described by botanists; and even now it is but imperfectly known to them. It is a pine.’
“‘What! a pine with fruit?’
“‘Did you ever see a pine without it—that is, in the proper season?’