parties desiring them.




[Illustration: THE BOY WHO LOVED HIS MOTHER.]

THE BOY WHO LOVED HIS MOTHER


When Felix was a little fellow, hardly two years old, he used to pet his
mother, and tell her how much he loved her.

As he grew up, he showed his love by his acts. He minded his mother; he
gave her his attention when she talked to him; and, if she told him not
to do a thing, he would not do it.

If she said, "Felix, don't do that," he would not fret, and say, "Why
not, mother?" Oh, no! He would at once give up what he was doing; for he
knew she would not, without some good reason, forbid him to do a thing
that pleased him.

Once, when Felix had grown to be six years old, his mother took him with
her on a journey in the railroad-cars to New York. It was a fine day in
June: the windows of the cars were open.

"Felix," said his mother, as they took their seats, "you may sit by the
window; but you must not put your head or your arms out of it."

Before she could explain to him her reasons for saying this, a friend