78 WORKING MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. MY FATHER'S AT THE HELM. A LESSON OF CONFIDENCE IN GOD. "Twas when the sea, with hideous roar, And potent fear, with awful power, “Why sporting thus?" a seaman cried, "Why yield to grief?" the boy replied, WORKING MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS. MY DEAR MADAM,—It will, I am sure, afford you pleasure to know that, rather more than a year since, we formed a Maternal Association, when nineteen mothers enrolled their names as members. A short time since, we held our annual meeting, when the mothers, with their husbands, met our pastor and several of the friends who interest themselves in our Association, and partook of a social meal. After tea, we read our first Report; and much hope is felt that our meetings will be blessed to many of our friends. We have now fifty members; the usual fortnightly attendance is encouraging; and several have been induced to attend the public ordinances of God's house. Our young friends distribute about fifty numbers of your valuable magazine, and both fathers and mothers hail its arrival each month with delight. One poor woman writes thus in reference to it:-"Soon after Divine light broke in upon my soul, and I was brought to feel what a sinner I I was thirsting after wisdom, when Miss R. presented to my notice The Mothers' Friend, which I received, and derived much instruction and comfort from it; it was like 'rain upon the tender herb.'" Sincerely do I hope, my dear Madam, that was, THE HOUSEHOLD OF SYMPATHY. 79 you will often have your heart gladdened by hearing of the good effects resulting from your work of faith and labour of love. A MOTHER. THE TWO HOMES. "FATHER is coming!"-and little round faces grow long, and merry voices are hushed, and toys are hustled into the closet, and mamma glances nervously at the door, and baby is bribed with a lump of sugar to keep the peace, and father's business-like face relaxes not a muscle, and the little group huddle like timid sheep in a corner, and tea is despatched as silently as if speaking were prohibited by the statute-book, and the children creep like little culprits to bed, marvelling that baby dare crow so soon, now that father has come ! "Father is coming!"—and bright eyes sparkle with joy, and tiny feet dance with glee, and eager faces press against the window-pane, and a bevy of rosy lips claim kisses at the door, and picture-books lie unrebuked on the table, and tops, and balls, and kites are discussed, and little Susy lays her soft cheek against the paternal whiskers with a fearless abandon, and Charley gets a love-pat for his medal, and mamma's face grows radiant, and the evening paper is read (not silently but aloud), and tea and toast and time vanish with equal celerity, for jubilee has arrived, and father has come!-Fanny Fern. THE HOUSEHOLD OF SYMPATHY. "HAPPY, thrice happy the families in whose narrow circles no heart can grieve or rejoice alone-no glance, no smile can be unreturned—and whose friends say to each other daily, with actions rather than words-' Thy joy, thy happiness are mine too.' Beautiful is the peaceful, the quiet home, which protectingly encloses the weary victim of earth; which collects around the friendly 80 FRAGMENTS FOR SPARE MOMENTS. blazing hearth, the old man leaning on a staff, the strong 'middle-aged man, the loving wife and happy children, who dance and sport around in their blessed earthly heaven, and who finish a happy day with grateful prayers upon their smiling lips."-Frederika Bremer. FRAGMENTS FOR SPARE MOMENTS. NOW. "Now," is the little word constantly heard ticking from the clock of time. "Now," is the watchword of the wise Now," is on the banner of the prudent-" Now," is the only time we have. Let us not put off for to-morrow what we can do now; saying, "then will I do it." "Then" may never be-now is our working time. AN ACROSTIC, COMPOSED BY A BOY OF TWELVE YEARS OF AGE, TO HIS SISTER AT SCHOOL. Join thyself unto the Lord, And flee the sinner's way; Nor dare God's holy law to break, E 'en to thy latest day. The Lord will watch and guide; MOTHER'S Work. A mother labours not in vain. She may drop into the grave, but she has left behind her influences that will work for her. The bow is broken; but the arrow is sped, and will do its office. THE LITTLE SUNDAY-SCHOOL GIRL'S ARROW. "Mother, my teacher says everybody ought to prayis this true, mother? You never pray-do you, mother?" THE TRIED MOTHER. "Show me a child undutiful, I shall know where to look for a foolish father." "I WILL tell father, that I will; he said I should always tell him when you scolded me. Ah! he'll pet me up when he comes home." This speech was made by a pert little girl of some seven years of age. Her mother, who was a gentle and amiable woman, had been well trained in her own early youth, but the want of co-operation on her husband's part, in regulating the high spirit of little Mary, cost her many a bitter pang. "Do not say that to me again, Mary," she replied, "or I shall send you to your room for the rest of the day, and your food will be bread and water." The firm tone of the mother's voice, and the sorrowful look that glanced upon her, caused the child to feel that her mother was in earnest, and with a quick step she retreated from her presence. "How naughty Mary is, mother!" said Frederick, who had been a silent spectator of the scene, laying his lessonbook on the table, while he gazed sorrowfully on his loving mother's face. "I wonder why it is that father always takes Mary's part, when she is naughty. Ah!I saw a tear in your eye, mother, at breakfast time, and I knew it was all about that little pert Mary." "Little children, my son," replied the mother, are either a great trial, or a great comfort to their parents. Do you know your lesson, my son? I should like to hear you repeat it before you go to school. I like you to be properly prepared with your studies; it is a great trial to a good master when his pupils bring him imperfect lessons." Frederick went through his lessons with his mother, and then, “with shining morning face," and satchel of books over his shoulder, he trudged off cheerfully to school. In the evening of the day, when Mrs. Harcourt and her five elder ones were assembled around the tea-table, wait ing for the father of the family, she asked John, her eldest son, if his lessons were ready for the morrow. "Part of them, mother," the boy replied; "father says, Mr. Lexicon is too severe, and gives us too long lessons, and that I only need learn part of mine." "But, my son,” replied the mother, "you are quite capable of learning and understanding the lessons set for you, and it is very important for you to acquire all the knowledge that you can now, in your early youth; if your father is spared, and has his health, he can only afford to send you a very few years longer to school; our income is very small, and all these little ones must have some education as well as my elder children." "Well, mother," said John, tossing back his 66 father says I need not learn so much, and I want a game of those spellicans." The end of the controversy next month. head, WHAT IS GLORY? Is it glory to cause the widow's t Is it glory to watch the orphans' grief, Such glory is caused by the battle-plain, Is it glory to break a mother's heart, Then carry her son to the battle-plain, Is it glory to drive the soul in haste To a world of black despair, Without one single prayer? Then trample the youth amidst the slain, |