"Mother," he went on, seeing that she would not speak. "I, too, have been rebellious; but I'm striving to be so no longer. Help me, as you helped me when I was a child. Then you said many good words--when my father died, and we were sometimes sorely short of comforts--which we shall never be now; you said brave, noble, trustful words then, mother, which I have never forgotten, though they may have lain dormant. Speak to me again in the old way, mother. Do not let us have to think that the world has too much hardened our hearts. If you would say the old good words, it would make me feel something of the pious simplicity of my childhood. I say them to myself, but they would come differently from you, remembering all the cares and trials you have had to bear."

Seeing that she would not speak, he went on. 'I, too, have been rebellious; but I am striving to be so no longer. Help me, as you helped me when I was a child. Then, when my father died, and we were sorely short of comforts, you said brave, noble, trustful words, mother, which I have never forgotten. Speak to me again in the old way. Do not let us think that the world has too much hardened our hearts. I say the old words to myself, but they would come differently from you, remembering all your cares and trials.'
