Life is what we make it, and not a matter of chance. By marking out a future success we expect to accomplish,—by sticking closely to this one idea, and bending every energy to attain it, we can come approximately near accomplishing our undertaking.
A CHANCE WORD.
Ralph and Lily had one game of which they never tired, and that was “horses.” It was really a convenient game, for it could be played on wet or fine days, in the nursery or on the road. Perhaps it was best fun on the road, “like real horses;” but I am not sure, for it was very delightful to sit on the nursery table, with the box of bricks for a coachman’s seat, and from that elevated position to drive the spirited four horses represented by the four chairs, to which the reins would be fastened.
One day—a fine day—the two children were playing at their usual game on the turnpike road, and waiting for nurse, who had gone into a cottage near by to speak to the washerwoman. Nurse was a long time, and Ralph, who was horse, was quite out of breath with his long trot on the hard road. Lily touched him up with the whip, but all to no avail—he could run no more.
“I’ve no breath left,” said the poor horse, sinking down exhausted on a heap of stones.
Lily put down the whip and patted his head to encourage him. “Soh! soh!” she said, in as good an imitation as she could manage of the way the groom spoke to their father’s horse; “you are quite done, I see. You must rest, and have a handful of oats,” and she dived into her pocket and produced a bit of biscuit, which the horse ate with great satisfaction, and soon professed himself ready to go on again. “Ah!” said Lily, sagely, “I knew you’d be all right soon; there’s nothing like food and kindness for horses when they’re tired.”
A tinker, with a cart and a poor, ill-fed beast harnessed to it, happened to be passing, and heard the little girl’s words. He stared after her, for she seemed very small to speak so wisely, and the tinker did not, of course, know that she was only repeating what she had heard her father say.