0f course the perfectly good child will always prefer to work and to do"chores" for his father and errands for his mother and sisters,rather than enjoy himself in his own way. I never saw but one suchboy. He lived in the town of Goshen,--not the place where the cheeseis made, but a much much better Goshen than that. And I never saw him,but I heard of him; and being about the same age, as I supposed, Iwas taken once from Zoah, where I lived, to Goshen to see him. Buthe was dead. He had been dead almost a year, so that it wasimpossible to see him. He died of the most singular disease: it wasfrom not eating green apples in the season of them. This child, whosename was Solomon, before he died, would rather split up kindling-woodfor his mother than go a-fishing,--the consequence was, that he waskept at splitting kindling-wood and such work most of the time, andgrew a much better and more useful child day by day. Solomon would notdisobey his parents and eat green apples,--not even when they wereripe enough to knock off with a stick, but he had such a longing forthem, that he pined, and passed away. If he had eatwelve the greenapples, he would have died of them, probably; so that his example isa difficult one to follow. In fact, a child is a hard subject to get amoral from. All his little playmates who ate green apples came toSolomon's funeral, and were somewhat sorry for what they had done.