know her own children. That aged woman is your father's mother! For the last twelve years, I have had the honor to provide for this afflicted woman, and to do it, I have been obliged to use my pen. For this, I have written books, and every cent of the proceeds have thus been devoted. Nothing else would ever have made me an author,-nothing else would ever keep me one. Have I not done right? I charge you, then, my dear child, and I charge every child who reads this book, that if you live, and as long as you live, never fail to be kind, affectionate, and grateful to your mother. And if in her age she needs your aid, give it to her, though you work in a brickyard, or in a coal-mine, to earn the money. Never let a sorrow dwell in her heart which you can remove, nor a grief which you can soften. Next to your God, let your mother have your love.
May that great Being whose character I have tried to describe here, ever bless you and