One pleasant morning in the fall of the year, little Charles, who had been sleeping on the trundle-bed in his mother’s chamber, waked up and opened his eyes. He looked around him, and saw that his father was dressing himself.

“Father,” said he, “may I get up too?”

“It is pretty cold this morning; can you bear the cold long enough to dress yourself?”

“But, father, I need not stay here; I can take up my clothes and run down into the parlor, and dress me there by the fire.”

“No, it is not proper for any body to go to the parlor till they are dressed. Besides, perhaps the fire is not built yet.”

By this time, Charles’ nose had become pretty cold; so he said, “Well, I believe I will wait;” and he drew his head under the bedclothes again.

In a few minutes he became warm again, and thought that it would not be very cold if he should get up, and that if it was, he should not mind it. He looked out a second time, and said,

“Father, do you think I should have time to dress me before you get ready to go down stairs?”

“I think you will, if you are quick.”

“Do you think I could help you any in building the fire?”

“Yes, you might hand me the wood and carry out the ashes, and after the fire is built, you might sweep up the hearth.”

“Then I will get up,” said Charles; and he sprang out of bed, and began to dress himself.

In a few minutes, however, he began to be cold, and to shiver, and his fingers grew numb, and he began to wish he had waited a little longer. At last he stopped dressing himself.

“Father,” said he, “it is colder than I thought it was. I have a great mind to get into bed again.”

“Well,” said his father, “you can do as you please; but how far have you got, in dressing yourself?”

“I am about half dressed.”

“Then it will take you about as long to undress again as it would to finish dressing, and be ready to go down.”Charles stood a moment shivering and thinking.

“So it will,” said he; “I wish I had not put on my jacket.”

After a moment’s pause, he concluded to finish dressing, and he went on resolutely through it; and just as his father opened the door, he took hold of his hand, saying that he was ready.

“Father,” said he, as they were going down stairs, “I think that when any body means to do any thing, he ought to think of all the difficulties before he begins, and then go through it quickly without stopping.”

“Why?” said his father.

“Because I grew colder while I was standing still, not knowing what to do, than all the time while I was dressing me. And now I shall be very cold before we get the fire built. Father, I don’t see what makes it cold. I wish it was always warm as it is in summer.”

“While we are building the fire, I will explain it to you,” said his father. So they went down stairs.

When Rollo read this story he said he was sorry it left off without telling why it is colder in the winter than in the summer, because he thought he should like to know. So at breakfast that morning, he asked his father to explain it to him.

“Yes,” said his father, “I will explain it to you. It is because in the winter the sun moves through such a part of the sky that he does not shine so well upon the part of the world which we live in, as he does in the summer.”

Rollo listened attentively to what his father said, but he thought he did not understand it very well. So he said he meant always to dress himself quick in the cold morning, and not keep beginning and leaving off as Charles did.