VI.

IT'S VERY HARD.

[Illustration]

"IT'S very hard to have nothing to eat but porridge, when others have every sort of dainty," muttered Charlie, as he sat with his wooden bowl before him. "It's very hard to have to get up so early on these bitter cold mornings, and work hard all day, when others can enjoy themselves without an hour of labour. It's very hard to have to trudge along through the snow while others roll about in their coaches."

"It's a great blessing," said his grandmother, as she sat at her knitting—"it's a great blessing to have food, when so many are hungry; to have a roof over one's head, when so many are homeless. It's a great blessing to have sight, and hearing, and strength for daily labour, when so many are blind, deaf, or suffering."

[Illustration: CHARLES AND HIS GRANDMOTHER.]

"Why, grandmother, you seem to think that nothing is hard," said the boy, still in a grumbling tone.

"No, Charlie. There is one thing that I think very hard."

"What's that?" cried Charlie, who thought that at last his grandmother had found some cause for complaint.

"Why, boy, I think 'that heart is very hard' that is not thankful for so many blessings."