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teaching its little heart to love by kindness and caresses, but never permitting it to disobey the parent's voice, or even look. Let her watch over the formation of its first habits, the right direction of its first feelings. Let her not leave the moulding of her precious charge to accident, to coarse or unprincipled servants or nurses; but let the priceless germ of its spiritual life be born of herself. And, as it grows older, let the mother be the first to develop its intelligence, to form its habits; teaching it truth by being always truthful, and inspiring confidence by never failing in a duty or a promise. Let her be associated, as a guardian and helping angel, with all its pleasures and all its trials. Let her lead its little heart to God in love and reverence, by carrying it daily to the feet of the Saviour, and by teaching it the Saviour's love. Let her correct her own faults, subdue her own temper, and inform her own mind, that her children may be proud to follow her example. Let her keep her heart young and fresh, that she may share their sympathy and confidence; but let her be firm and unwavering, that she may never lose their respect, or her own influence over them. Let her make home pleasant to her children by cheerfulness, intelligence and reasonable indulgence in all innocent gratifications; but let her not forget that she is the ruler of her household. Do you suppose that children brought up in this way will not cling to their mother, will not love her society, will not respect her, will not look up to her through all their lives? How can a mother who, for the mere froth of life, or for a weak and selfish indulgence, has left her living diamonds unpolished, her heart's best gold uncared for,— how can she be surprised when the dark and turbid waves of the world come to engulf them and sweep them away like rubbish? You say that you have indulged your children in every wish of their hearts. And you expected gratitude for this? How could they be grateful for that which cost them. nothing, which was given from indolence or vanity, and which they felt in their hearts they did not deserve? The smallest pleasure received with a feeling that it had been earned, the most trifling gift from sincere and deserved affection, the word of praise or of blame accompanied by the conviction that it was strictly just, a half-hour spent in bringing rebellious feelings into harmony with love, order and child-like submission; these things, when the mind was fresh and the heart ductile, would have done more for this

training that Solomon speaks of, than endless showers of unearned and undeserved gratifications."

I have always observed that it never does any good to convince some people that they have been in the wrong. The plainer you make it, the worse it is. I have often tried it, and always with the same result. There is so much self-love in many hearts, that one can hardly utter a word which might really do another good, without wrapping it up in so much flattery as entirely to neutralize its effects. Mrs. Dater was not an exception to this rule.

"One would know you were an old maid, Sally," said she, angrily, "merely by hearing you give such a formal lecture about bringing up children. I wish you knew what it is. I wish you had tried it. I wish you had been in my situation, with such a house as this to furnish and oversee; with servants to manage; with visiting, shopping, dressing, dinners, parties and balls, how could I give all this attention to my children? I gave them the advantage of the highest-priced schools and masters; I have taken them everywhere they wished to go; there was nothing heart could desire that they did not have; -" and she went on with the same list of merits in herself and grievances from her children with which she began.

I did not choose to subject myself to being again called an illnatured old maid, or to have my friendly suggestions stigmatized as a formal lecture, so I held my peace; but never did the insufficiency of worldly splendor to insure happiness, never did the sweet. rewards of duty faithfully performed, never did the enjoyments of a home made beautiful by piety and peace, by honor and affection, so impress themselves upon my mind and heart, as when I listened to the complaints of my rich cousin, and compared her miserable mistakes and failures with what might have been had she early and resolutely set herself better to understand and perform her duty. But it was too late now. Charles and Anne had each entered upon their course, and every attempt to control or guide resulted in opposition and defeat. The younger children were following in the same steps.

After this evening the pleasure of my visit was very much lessened. A note of discord had been struck between my cousin and me, which never came into perfect harmony, though we were outwardly friendly. My heart always warms to young people, but here

there was no answering glow. Each was intent upon enjoyment; but they looked for it abroad, and not at home among themselves. At first I had looked upon the splendor and luxury around me as a never-failing source of enjoyment; but day by day the fascination became less, while there was so much to annoy me in the lawless habits of the children; so that, at the end of a month, I was quite willing to take my departure.

Mrs. Dater made me a present of a maroon satin dress and a pretty white silk bonnet, for which I am sure I felt very much obliged to her; but I do not think she saw my departure with any great regret.

I wrote to Mrs. Delma, but I said nothing about my future plans, for I had yet two visits to make; and I had a fancy they would turn out very differently from this one, which, in truth, they did. I will, however, say nothing about them here, as I intend to give an account of them in another number.

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Yea! rather let our hearts most thankful be

That she has reached so soon the blissful land,
Where sin and death come not, where, pure and free,
"The just made perfect" in God's presence stand.

MATERNAL PATIENCE.

BY REV. E. P. DYER.

A MOTHER'S patience always excites my admiration, and sometimes fills me with utter astonishment.

Perhaps all mothers are not alike distinguished for this maternal excellence. But, when I think how many millions of human beings have been born, nursed, cradled, washed, clothed and fed, through the helpless period of infancy and through the wayward years of childhood, and remember how large a share of the daily toil, care and responsibility, involved in all this nursery work, has fallen to the lot of mothers, and been performed by them with so few rebellious murmurs at the dispensations of Divine Providence, and with so much apparent cheerfulness and good-will, I am persuaded that maternal patience is an inherent quality in maternal history.

I can comprehend something of a mother's love. I am not surprised at the deep joy which thrills her bosom at the birth of her first-born. I do not wonder that, when she first clasps to her heart the babe she calls her own, she feels all a mother's pride. Her emotions of deep tenderness toward the little helpless being just committed to her watchful care, may arise in part from beholding a new creation of God, and in part from the novelty of the fond relationship which is just begun. But I confess I cannot account for that after-growth of patience which I see her manifest week after week, month after month, and year after year, and which seems not only to be daily renewed from all weariness, but to be utterly inexhaustible.

While her babe is in early infancy the mother incessantly attends its wants. There is not one to whose care she ventures to entrust it long. Hour after hour she does something to promote its comfort. She holds it. She feeds it. She talks to it. She changes its apparel. She folds it to her bosom. She sings the same unwearied lullaby, and continues the same monotonous rocking of the cradle, sometimes for a full hour, watching the half-open eyes and dreamy, smile of the little one she vainly seeks to lull to healthful and calm

repose.

And when, at length, her patience triumphs, and the happy moment comes, and sleep descends on the dewy lids of her child, she hastens to employ her empty arms in the other numerous and varied duties of her household. Yet seldom, for a moment, does she venture to avert her eye or ear from the cradle where the babe of her bosom drinks in its balmy slumber.

When unaccountable illness has made her babe more than usually sensitive and fretful, I have seen her again and again, after unwearied effort in rocking and singing, lay her babe down to rest in the cradle, and again and again run to its little bed, drawn by its sudden and piercing cry, and take it up and fold it to her bosom, and sit down in her nursery chair to swing to and fro to the music of her maternal lullaby, till gentle sleep comes once more to her relief. And yet her patience is not exhausted; nay, it seems to me sometimes that it gains fresh accessions of strength every day. But the nature of that fortitude which enables her to endure with patience not merely the monotony of woman's lot, but the cares, the anxieties and the trials of maternity, is to me a most impenetrable mystery.

Who has not seen her, with her lap full of some kind of necessary needle-work, sitting by the side of the cradle, with her foot on the rocker, to accomplish the double task of toiling and watching, with most imperturbable patience, the whole evening long, ready to stir the cradle at the slightest symptom of uneasiness exhibited by its darling inmate?

When the hour of morning worship gathers all but the slumbering babe to the chamber of prayer, who takes her seat nearest the nursery-room, and sits with door ajar while the Scriptures are read, as if it were not possible for her to cast off, for a single moment, the burden of maternal responsibility?

O, the patience of a mother is a wonderful endowment! Its value is not yet fully appreciated. Its history is yet unwritten. The more it is contemplated, the more wonderful it appears. It is not courage, it is not mere endurance, it is not the grace of Christian. resignation that I mean. It is a quality resulting from that fortitude which seems peculiar to her sex; a quality so lovely and so amiable I sometimes feel that even I could write a volume in its praise.

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