Chapter I: Johnny's Home

"OH, dear!" exclaimed little Johnny, his full, round face drawn up into a sad scowl, "Oh dear!"

Now I suppose that all the children who read this true story, will imagine that Johnny was sick, or had cut his finger badly, or perhaps had fallen down and bumped his head. But no; he was perfectly well, his fingers were all whole, and he had met with no injury at all.

Perhaps some little Mary or Susy or John, will say, "Johnny must have lived in an old house, with no bed except some straw thrown upon the floor, and no food but a mouldy crust, that was why he kept saying, 'Oh, dear!'"

No, God had given him parents who owned a large, pleasant house, situated on a hill, with winding avenues leading to the front door. Then there was a beautiful lawn in front. You could not guess in a whole day what was on the lawn, so I must tell you. It was a brown and white goat, whose name was Bessie, and her two little kids. The pretty creatures jumped, and frisked, and danced all over the green grass, and sometimes ran away behind the house, to the great trouble of their mother, who was tied, and couldn't follow them. Then Bessie would begin to cry, like Johnny, "Oh, dear! oh, dear!" She did not say this in words, but it sounded as if she were complaining of their naughty behavior.

But I must leave telling you about Bessie, for the present, and finish describing Johnny's home. The green lawns extended on each side of the house, but behind the great barn was a kitchen garden, where peas and beans, and sweet corn and tomatoes grew in abundance for the table. Then there were long rows of currant-bushes, and raspberry-bushes, and high blackberries, and beyond these a thriving orchard of apple, pear and peach trees.

Johnny was very fond of all these things, and as he was well, his mother allowed him to eat what he wished of them.

In the barn behind the house, there was a horse, named Billy, and two cows, Sally and Hatty; Sally was mother to Hatty, and nice cows they were, coming home every night with their great bags of rich milk.

Billy was a very kind horse, and though he would sometimes be a little frisky (he was five years old, too, just as Johnny was), yet whenever he felt his young master's light form on his back he would not paw his feet, nor dance at all. He would stand still till all was ready, and then trot gently round the walks.

Johnny's father and mother often went to ride, and almost always the little boy went, too; and then he and his mother had a school as they rode along. She gave him words to spell, and he would laugh when he said them right, and give her words. Sometimes she would spell cat c-p-t, cat. Oh, how the little fellow laughed to think he could spell better than his mother!

Now when God had been so good to Johnny, and given him such kind parents, and such a pleasant home, when he was well, and had not hurt himself at all, what could be the reason that when he woke up in the morning, and a great many times every day he said, "Oh, dear! oh, dear!" in that complaining tone.

I am sorry to tell you he had a naughty, wicked habit of fretting.

"Oh, dear! I can't untie the reins to my horse." "Oh, dear! my marbles keep rolling away under the bed." "Oh, dear! I'm too tired to work, I want to play." "Oh, dear! need I study, mother? I'm so warm."

This was what Johnny kept saying over and over again every day, and it troubled his father and mother more and more that their boy, whom God had surrounded with so many blessings, should be so unthankful and complaining.

When Johnny was good-natured his face was very pleasant to look upon. His skin was clear and smooth, his eyes looked out from behind their brown lashes with a merry glance, his mouth was small and well-shaped. But no child can fret a great deal without spoiling the face God has given him, and Johnny's mother was really afraid that his little features would be so drawn up by his saying "Oh, dear," that they never would come straight again.

Beside his parents there were others who were greatly troubled at this habit of Johnny's. He was the youngest of six sons, and the pet of them all. But now one of his older brothers, who was in size almost a man, said, one day,—

"What makes Johnny fret so much? I'm tired of hearing him talk in that whining voice."

A few days after this his brother was going to ride, and Johnny ran out to the carriage, crying, in an eager voice, "Charlie, may I go with you?"

"I'm going to make a call, and I'm afraid you'll fret," his brother answered.

Johnny hung his head, looking very much ashamed, but presently he said, softly, "I'm going to be a good boy now, and not fret any more."

Charlie smiled. "Well, then, you may go," he said.

They had scarcely gone half a mile before the little boy forgot his promise, and in a complaining tone, began,—

"I can't take the whip."

"How do you know you can't?" asked his brother.

"Because I know you won't let me."

"You may be sure I sha'n't, when you whine so. But if you had asked pleasantly, May I take the whip, Charlie? I would have let you. You must remember you never will gain anything from me by whining."