I do not wonder at all that little Julian was so much delighted with the idea of going to this exhibition.  It was something entirely new to him; and to children, especially, such singular feats as these animals were to perform, are always entertaining.  It may, however, admit of a question, whether it is right, just for our amusement, to inflict so much pain upon these poor creatures as is necessary to teach them their several parts.  It seems rather cruel.  You know what the frogs once said to the boys, according to the fable, in the matter of stoning:  “Young gentlemen, you do not consider, that while this is sport to you, it is death to us.”  These poor bears, and monkeys, and other animals, while they are going through their education, might use some such language to their teachers, perhaps, if they had the same faculty that the fable ascribes to the frogs.  But, however that may be, it was very natural that Julian should be half frantic at the thought of seeing the show, and quite as natural that Julian’s father and mother should consent to let him go.

Well, some two days before the exhibition was to take place, Julian was taken sick.  There is a class of diseases—­such as the measles and the whooping-cough—­which, you know, almost every boy and girl must have some time or another; and it is not always left with the children to decide precisely when they shall take their turn.  One of these diseases had made Julian a call, and insisted on staying with him a week or two.  It was the whooping-cough.  Julian wanted to be excused for a few days; but the old fellow told him, in his wheezing way, that he could not think of letting him off so long.  Julian was disappointed, and cried a good deal.  It did seem rather hard that he must be caged up in his chamber just at this time.  He was not so sick as to make it necessary to stay at home; but his mother thought it would be wrong to allow him to go where there were to be so many other children, because they would be in danger of taking the disease from him.  So it was decided that he could not see the “show;” and he fretted and stormed, and made himself very unhappy.  He was usually a good-natured boy, but it must be confessed, that he was now quite out of humor.

“I don’t see what I’m sick for, just when I wanted to go to the ‘show.’  I declare, it is too bad.  And the whooping-cough, too!  If it was any thing else, I could go.  What under the sun—­”

“There, Julian, that will do, I think,” said his mother, kindly.

Julian checked himself, but he could hardly help muttering something about its being “very provoking.”

Mrs Parmelee was silent for a while, until the peevishness of her child had a little time to subside, and then she said—­

“My dear child, I am sorry that you should feel so; for you not only make yourself unhappy, but you are finding fault with God, and you know that is very wrong.  God had something to do with your sickness.  He could very easily have prevented it, if he had chosen to do so.  But he did not choose to prevent it, and—­”