"Well, then, as you could not believe that _chance_ had made and put together so exactly the letters of your name (though only sixteen), then how can you believe that _chance_ could have made and put together all those millions and millions of things that are now so exactly fitted for your good! Eyes to see with; ears to hear with; nose to smell with; a mouth to eat with; teeth to bite with; hands to handle with; feet to walk with; a mind to think with; a heart to love with; a home to live in; parents to care for you, and brothers and sisters to love you! Why, look at this beautiful world in which you live, with its golden, light to cheer you by day, and its still night to wrap you in sleep when you are too tired to play; its fruits, and flowers and fields of grass and grain; its horses to draw you and cows to give you milk; its sheep to furnish wool to cloth you, and meat for your food; its sun, moon and stars to comfort you; bubbling springs to quench your thirst; wood to burn that you may be warm in winter; and _ten thousand other good things_--so many that my son could never number them all, or even think of them! Could _chance_ bring about all these things so exactly as to suit your _wants_ and _wishes_?" "No, pa, chance could not do it," answered George, really taking in this new view of the world around him. "What was it, then, do you think, my son?" continued his father. "God did it," George replied. "Yes, George, it is all the work of God, and nobody else," responded his father. "He gives us all." "Does God give me everything? Don't you give me _some things_?" George inquired. "I give you something!" exclaimed his father. "How can I give you anything, George? I who have nothing on earth I can call my own; no, not even the breath I draw!" "Ain't the house yours, and the garden, and the horses and oxen and sheep?" still inquired George, failing to comprehend the great truth of God's ownership. "Oh, no, my son, no! Why, you make me shrink into nothing, George, when you talk of all these things belonging to _me_, who can't even make a _grain of sand_! How could I give life to the oxen and horses, when I can't give life even to a fly, my son?" George was introduced into a new world by this lesson, as his father intended that he should be. His precocious mind grasped, finally, the great idea of his "_true_ Father," and the lesson never had to be repeated. We have rehearsed this incident somewhat in detail as given by Mr. Weems, because its influence will be found interwoven with George's future private and public life. Another story told by Mr. Weems is the famous _hatchet_ story, which has been rehearsed to so many children, since that day, to rebuke falsehood and promote truth-telling.