Rollo was sitting one morning by the fire-side, before breakfast, reading in a little blue covered hymn-book. Presently Mary brought in the breakfast; and Rollo was glad, and jumped up from his little low chair at the fire, and went and brought his high chair, and put it at his place at the table.

When they were all ready, they stood still, while Rollo’s father said in a slow and serious manner, “Almighty God, we thank thee that thou hast again spread this table for us, and prepared this food. Help us now to receive it thankfully, and may it strengthen us to obey thy commands this day; we ask it for Christ’s sake.” Then they sat down.

Rollo knew that this was called asking a blessing, and he had always been taught to be very still, and very attentive, while it was done. He did not know however, exactly what it was for, and he thought he would now ask his father.

His father told him it was to thank God for their breakfast.

Rollo asked his father whether God gave them their breakfast.

“Yes,” said his father, “God causes our breakfast to be brought to us from many distant places.”

“Where do the knives and forks come from?” said Rollo.

“They come from England. The men dig up the iron out of the ground to make the blades, and take horn and make the handles, and then roll them up in a paper and put them in a ship. The ship brings them across the ocean, more than a thousand miles, to Boston. Then the waggoner puts them in his waggon, and brings them over the hills and valleys away to this town where we live,—all that little Rollo may have a knife and fork to eat his breakfast.”

“Where do the plates come from?”

“They come from England. The men find a bank of white clay, and they mix up some of it with water, until it is like dough. Then they make it into the shape of plates, and cups, and saucers, and paint them blue; and put them into a large, hot oven, and bake them hard. When they are cooled, they pack them up in a sort of a basket, large and square; and put straw and hay between them, so that they need not break. And so they bring them over the waves, and over the hills, away to the town we live in, so that little Rollo may have a plate when he eats his breakfast.”

“Where does the coffee come from?”“It comes from Cuba. The negroes plant a tree and take good care of it while it grows, until there are a great many kernels of coffee upon it. They gather them when they are ripe, and sew them up in a bag, and send them all the way over the sea, and over the land, across the rivers and mountains and rocks. When they come here, Mary burns them brown, and grinds them in the mill, and heats the water, all that little Rollo may have some coffee to drink for breakfast.”

“Where does the bread come from?”

“When the summer begins, the little green blades of wheat grow up out of the ground, in the farmer’s fields. God waters it with showers, and warms it with the sun, so that it grows and grows and grows, till it is higher than Rollo’s head. Then the little grains of wheat grow in the top of it, and when they are ripe, the farmer cuts them down, and pounds them out with a great heavy flail, and puts them in a bag, and sends them to mill. At the mill they are ground between two great stones, into fine, white flour, and the baker mixes the flour and water; and makes the dough, and bakes it in his great hot oven, all that little Rollo may have some bread for breakfast.”

“Well, but father,” said Rollo, “how does God give us our breakfast then?”

His father said, “Why, it is God who made the iron in the ground for the knives, and the clay for the plates and cups. He brings the summer and the sun. He makes the wheat sprout up and grow, and brings the showers of rain. He takes care too, of all the men who shape the cups, and make the knives, and gather the coffee, and grind the wheat. He does all this kindly for us,—so that Rollo and all the other boys in the world may have some breakfast. I think we ought to thank him.”

Rollo did not say any thing, but he thought so too.