"Yes," he answered; "and I went to Sunday school, too."
"And what was your lesson about?" I asked.
"Oh, about the roses--"
"Roses?" I interrupted, in surprise.
"Yes," the little boy went on; "the roses--you know--in the gardens."
"I don't remember any Sunday-school lesson about them," I said.
"But there _is_ one; we had it to-day. The roses, they made the children
have good manners. Then, one day, the children were greedy; and their
manners were bad. Don't you know about it?" he added anxiously.
He was but five years old. I told him about Moses; I explained
painstakingly just who the Children of Israel were; and I did my best to
point out clearly the difference between manna and manners. He listened
with seeming understanding; but the next day, coming upon me as I was
fastening a "crimson rambler" to its trellis, he inquired solemnly, "Can
the roses make children have good manners, _yet_?"
Country children are taught, even as sedulously as city children, the
importance of good manners! On the farm, as elsewhere, the small left
hand is seized in time by a mother or an aunt with the well-worn words,
"Shake hands with the _right_ hand, dear.
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