“’Why, mother! you?” exclaimed Hugh.

“Yes; that was the sort of little girl I was.  Well, I was in despair, one day, at the thought that I should have to wash, and clean my teeth, and brush my hair, and put on every article of dress, every morning, as long as I lived.”

“Did you tell anybody?” asked Hugh.

12.  “No, I was ashamed to do that; but I remember I cried.  You see how it turns out.  When we have become accustomed to anything, we do it without ever thinking of the trouble, and, as the old fable tells us, the clock that has to tick so many millions of times, has exactly the same number of seconds to do it in.  So will you find that you can move about on each separate occasion, as you wish, and practice will enable you to do it without any trouble or thought.”

“But this is not all, nor half what I mean,” said Hugh.

13.  “No, my dear, nor half what you will have to bear.  You resolved to bear it all patiently, I remember.  But what is it you dread the most?”

“Oh! all manner of things.  I can never do like other people.”

“Some things,” replied his mother.  “You can never play cricket, as every Crofton boy would like to do.  You can never dance at your sister’s Christmas parties.”

14.  “O mamma!” cried Agnes, with tears in her eyes, and with the thought in her mind that it was cruel to talk so.

“Go on!  Go on!” cried Hugh, brightening.  “You know what I feel, mother; and you don’t keep telling me, as others do, and even sister Agnes, sometimes, that it will not signify much, and that I shall not care, and all that; making out that it is no misfortune, hardly, when I know what it is, and they don’t.  Now, then, go on, mother!  What else?”

15.  “There will be little checks and mortifications continually, when you see little boys leaping over this, and climbing that, and playing at the other, while you must stand out, and can only look on.  And some people will pity you in a way you will not like:  and some may even laugh at you.”

“O mamma!” exclaimed Agnes.

“Well, and what else?” said Hugh.

16.  “Sooner or later you will have to follow some way of life determined by this accident instead of one that you would have liked better.”

“Well, what else?”

“I must ask you, now.  I can think of nothing more; and I hope there is not much else; for, indeed, I think here is quite enough for a boy, or anyone else, to bear.”

“I will bear it though; you will see.”

17.  “You will find great helps.  These misfortunes of themselves strengthen one’s mind.  They have some advantages too.  You will be a better scholar for your lameness, I have no doubt.  You will read more books, and have a mind richer in thoughts.  You will be more beloved by us all, and you yourself will love God more for having given you something to bear for his sake.  God himself will help you to bear your trials.  You will conquer your troubles one by one, and by a succession of little victories will at last completely triumph over all.” 
                                                      —­Harriet Martineau.