few minutes he would come and stand before her, and say very earnestly,
"Are you sure I shall say it?"

He looked very pale, almost as if he had had a fit of illness. No wonder.
It was the whole battle of life fought at the age of four.

It was late in the afternoon of this the third day. Willy had been sitting
in his little chair, looking steadily at the floor, for so long a time
that his mother was almost frightened. But she hesitated to speak to him,
for she felt that the crisis had come. Suddenly he sprang up, and walked
toward her with all the deliberate firmness of a man in his whole bearing.
She says there was something in his face which she has never seen since,
and does not expect to see till he is thirty years old.

"Mamma!" said he.

"Well, dear?" said his mother, trembling so that she could hardly speak.

"Mamma," he repeated, in a loud, sharp tone, "G! G! G! G!" And then he
burst into a fit of crying, which she had hard work to stop. It was over.

Willy is now ten years old. From that day to this his mother has never had
a contest with him; she has always been able to leave all practical
questions affecting his behavior to his own decision, merely saying,
"Willy, I think this or that will be better."

His self-control and gentleness are wonderful to see; and the blending in
his face of childlike simplicity and purity with manly strength is
something which I have only once seen equalled.