Cornell University Library The original of tiiis book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924076068091 3 1924 076 068 091 i@TH-EK. -,.> Dacus, J. A — 74 Dane, H. C 135 Deems, Rev. Dr. Charles F 440 Dickens, Charles 369 Dickenson, Charles 154 Downing, Rev. Dr 134 Dryden, John 213, 283 Dwight, Rev. Dr. Timothy 267 Emerson, R. W 128, 181 Campbell, Thomas 49 Faber, Rev. Dr. F. W. . . .270, 417, 435 Carlyle, Thomas 270 Farman, Ella 95- 12 LIST OF AUTHOMS. PAGE Fellows, Rev. Samuel 379 Fields, James T 200 Franklin, Benjamin 257 Fuller 363 Gakpield, Jas. A 68, 343 Gray, John 79 Gladstone, W. E 283 Goethe 358 Goldsmith, Oliver 138, 308, 317 Gough, John B 381 Guthrie, Rev. Dr. Thomas 381, 383 Guyon, Madame 354 Hale, Mrs. Sarah J 85 Hall, Rev. Dr. John 337 Halleck, Fitz Greene 108 Hamilton, Rev. Dr 148 Hamilton, R. W 443 Harris, Rev. J. L 390 Haven, Bishop Gilbert 104 Havergal, Frances Ridley 367, 451 Helps, Sir Arthur 317 Hemans, Mrs. Felicia D 339 Henderson, Rev. M. C 106 Henry, Rev. Dr. Matthew 315, 413 He»nck, Robert 168 Herschel, Sir John 357 Hill,Rowland 445 Hodge, Rev. Dr. A. A 41, 264 Holland, J. G 355 Holm, Saxe 40 Holmes, Oliver Wendell. 113,143,161,353 Hood, Thomas .64, 188, 453 Hopkins, Jane Ellis 167 Home, Bishop 876 Hoaghton, Mary H 305 Humboldt 364 Hunt, Leigh 199 Hunter, William 437 Huntington, C 403 Huntington, Bishop F. D.. 350 Janes, Bishop E. S 353 Jay, Rev. WUUam 353 page: Jocelyn, Mrs. Elizabeth H 431 Johnson, Dr 203. Keble, John 140' Ken, Bishop Thomas 388 King, Henry 350* Lamb, Charles 403^ Lange, Rev. Dr. Ernst 445 Lason, A. A 386 Lathrop, Mary P 173 Lincoln, Abraham 30 Longfellow, H. W. . 100, 156, 381, 808, 331 Lonsdale, Bishop of 876- Lover, S 34 Lowell, James Russell 179, 331 Lytton, Bulwer 358, 407 Macahlat, Lord 88 MacDonald, George 333 Mackay, Charles 383 Mann, Horace 180, 309 March, Rev. Dr. Daniel.. . .354, 383, 44g Marsh, Miss 398 Mason, John 353 Matthews, Rev. Dr. J. M 43 McDonald, Rev. Dr. James M 422 McLeod, Mrs. Georgie A. H 833- Millman, Dean 408^ Mills, Mrs. Elizabeth 424 Milton, John 858- Mitchell, JohnK 316 Montgomery, James. . . .59, 116, 867, 480> Moody, D. L 133, 226 Moore, Thomas 397, 439, 436. More, Hannah 880' Morris, George P 87, 103 Muckle, Mary J 35 Muhlenberg, Wm. A 450 Mulock, Miss 301, 364 Murray, Rev. W. H. H 184 Neattdeb, J. W. a 45a Newton, John 893 Northrop, Prof. B. G 383- 13 LIST OF AUTHORS. PAGE Osgood, Mrs. Frances S 379 Osgood, Rev. Samuel 380 Orrery, Earl of 113 Ovid 100 Paenbll, Thomas 304 Paxton, Rev. Dr. W. M 333 • Payne, John Howard 365 Pearce, William 387 Penn, William. 389 Penrose, Richard 373 Perry, Mrs. S. T 333 Pierpont, John 334 Pliny 343 Planche, J. R 345 Pollock, Rohert 304 Pope, Alexander 330, 330 Prentice, George t> 107, 446 Preston, Mrs • 341 Priest, Nancy A. W 444 .Proctor, Bryan W 364 Punshou, Rev. Dr. W. Morley,.353, 377, 389, 363, 433 Randolph, A. D. P 310 Read, T. Buchanan 365 Reed, Rev. Dr. Alexander 350 Rice, Mrs. C. L 331 Rohertson, Rev. Dr. F. W 364 Bogers, Samuel 145, 335 Rounds, William M. F.,. 319 Ruskin, John 380 .■Sallust 333 Sangster, Margaret E 164, 333 Saxe, John G 357 Scott, Sir Walter 215 Seneca 289 .Shakespeare, William 310, 347, 443 •Sidney, Sir Philip 259 .Sigourney. Mrs. L. H 73, 347, 358 "Simpson, Bishop 395 PAGE Smith, Mrs. May Riley 50 Smith, Sidney 368 Socrates 381 Southey, Robert 368, 388 Sprague, Charles 371 . Spurgeon, Rev. C. H..134, 333, 367, 395, 337 StilUngs, Heiurich 443 Storrs, R. S 203 Stowe, Mrs. H. B 384 Swain, Charles 117, 149 Talmagb, Rev. T. De Witt. . 84, 314, 335, 389, 395, 397, 353 Taylor, Bishop 152 Taylor, Rev. Dr. William M 362 Tennyson, Alfred 132, 304 Thomson, James 136, 145, 301, 863 Tillotson 63 Todd, Rev. Dr, John 338 Trafton, Rev. Mark. 100, 108 Tupper, Martin F 142, 325 Turgot 368 Tweedie, Rev. Dr. W. K 398 Victoria, Queen 367 Wadswoeth, Rev. Dr. Charles 336 Walker, Delia B 394 Walker, Dr. James 363 Watts, Rev. Dr. Isaac 393 Webster, Daniel 333, 436 West, Benjamin 48 White, Henry Kirke 87 Whittier, John G 183, 374, 315 Wilcox, Carlos '368 Willis, Nathaniel P 83, 380 Williams, Rev. D wight 435 Wordsworth, Samuel 137 Tbomans, William H 187 Young, Edward 353 14 =^i^wMJJ,-^-.*~^ COJVT^EJVTS, Poetical Selections are indicated by Bold-face Numbers. PAGE A Mother's Large Affection Laman BlancMrd 30 Mt Mother Abraham Lincoln 30 Mother Fanny Crosby 33 My Mother Dear 8. Lover 34 Mother Joanna Baillie 34 Mother, Home and Hbaten Mary J. Muekle 35 Mother E. L. Cassanoma 36 The Mother at Home Mother's Treaswry. 87 A Mother's Love Saxe Holm 40 A Mother's Heart Macmillan's Magazine 41 The Love Principle A. A. Hodge, D.D 41 A Mother's Inflttence J. M. Matthews, B.D 43 A Mother's Prayer Anonymous. 48 A Mother's Kiss Benjamin West 48 The Mother Thomas Campbell 49 Tired Mothers Mrs. May Biley Smith 50 Mothers of Distinguished Men Anonymous 53 Mothers and Sons Christian Intelligeneer 56 The Mother's Prater Anonymous 58 A Mother's Lote James Montgomery 59 The Mother's Opportunity .Anonymous 60 Woman's Special Lot Napoleon Bonaparte 61 Mothers, Put Tour Children to Bed Mother's Magazine 63 'The Good-Night Kiss Anonymous 63 A Good Word Tillotson 63 17 CONTENTS. PAGE Mother and Child Thomas Hood 64 Mothers and their Children Christian Secretary 65 Our Mother Uural New Yorker 67 Conflicts of Life I James A. Garfield 68 Parental Authority Mother's Treasury 69 Courtesies to Parents 8. 8. Times 71 The Mother's Charge Mrs. L. H. Sigourney 73 Authority of Parents Horace Bushnell, D.D. ... 73 The Dying Mother J. A. Daeus 74 Eesponsibility op Parents T. F.W. 76 Visit your Parents '.. .Anonymous 77 A Word with Parents about their Childrbn. Anonymous 7& The Hand that Rocks the Cradle John Oray 79 The Mother's Sorrow Methodist 80' Sorrows R. W. Beeaher 81 The Old Arm-Chair. . Eliza Cook 82 Mary, the Mother of Jesus N. P. Willis 83 Mother's Vacant Chair T. Be Witt Talmage 84 The Mother's Wondrous Power Mrs. Sarah J. Hale 85 Respect for Mothers* Anonymous 86 To My Mother Henry Kirke White 87 My Mother George P. Morris 87 Tribute to a Mother Lord Macaulay 88 The Mother's Mission Anonymous 88 Working and Waiting Anonymous . 91 My Mother's Hands Anonymous. 92. My Mother's Picture William Cowper 93 The Mother as Teacher A. W. K. 94 How Mamma Plats ' Mlla Farman 95 Mother's Empire Bev. H. H. Birkins 97 For His Mother's Sake Anonymous 99 Wife and Mother Bev. Mark Trafton 100 Woman's Power H. W. Longfellow lOO The Old Folks Oongregationalist 101 Mother, the Queen of Her Home Bev. Mark Trafton 102 My Mother's Bible George P. Morris 103 18 CONTENTS. My Motheb's Bible Bishop Oilbert Haven 104 My Motheb's Grave Bev. M. C. Henderson lOG Mothers, Spare Yourselves Anonymous 107 My Mother's Grave Oeorge D. Prentice 107 Loved and Praised Fitz Oreene Hallech 108 ttOM8 Home Olwer Wendell Holmes 112 Domestic Happiness Earl of Orrery 113 Home Fanny Crosby 115 Home James Montgomery 116 Home Defined Charles Swain 117 The Home of Childhood , Samuel D. Burchard, D.D. 118 Home Songs Anonymous 121 The Old Home Alfred Tennyson 122 Home Shadows Bdbert Collyer, B.B 123 Home Adornments Bev. Br. Boioning 134 Scenes of Mt Childhood Samuel Wordsworth 127 Longings fob Home Oliver Goldsmith 128 Home Government — What is it ? Mother's Treasury 139 Home Government — Its Importance Bev. B. F. Booth 130 Home Training of Children B. L. Moody 133 Home Affection H. C. Bane 135 Home Teaching James Thomson 136 Home Instruction Eon. Schuyler Colfax 137 Home Influences Saturday Evening Post 138 The Smiles of Home Jolm Keble 140 Home Courtesy Anonymous 141 The Happy Home Martin F. Tupper 142 Home of oub Childhood Oliver Wendell Holmes 142 An Ideal Home Samuel Bogers 145 Home .....James Thomson 145 19 CONTJiNTS. PAGE. Home Keligion Mother's Treasury 146 Kind Words at Home Anonymous 148 A Happy Home Defined Rev. Br. Hamilton 148 Home and Friends Glmrles Swain 149 Well Done Bev. Theo. L. Ouyler. 150 ^ Family Prayers Christian at Work 151 Frequent Prayer BisJiop Taylor 153 No Time to Pray Anonymous 153 The Children Charles Dicleenson 154 The Children H.W. Longfellow 156 Th e Rights of Children Littell's Living Age 157 Sufferings op Childhood Appleton's Journal 158' Government of Children Boston Post 160 The Beautiful Home Oliver Wendell Holmes 161 Not One Child to Spare Mrs. Ethd L. Beers 162. Babies and their Rights M. E. Sangster 164 The Children's Bed-Time Jane Ellis Hopkins 167 The Evening Prayer Anonymous 169 Home and its Queen Seribner's Monthly 170 Coming Home from School Miss F. O. Browning 171 The Paradise of Home Henry Ware, H.B 173; To Our Girls Mary F. Lathrop 17& A Plea for the Boy ^ew York Evening Post. . . 174 What I Live for G. E. Banks 177 Children of the Rich and Poor, Contrasted. JamM Bussell Lowell 179 Be Kind, Boys Horace Mann 180 Good Manners Anonymous 181 Kind Manners at Home Anonymous 182 Our Lives are Albums J. &. Whittier 183 Religious Family Life O. H. ParJchurst, D.D 184 A Cheerful Home Friend^ Intelligeneer 186 The Farmer's Home WiUiam H. Yeomans 187 Home Memories Thomas Hood 188 Singing in the Family Anonymous 190 Art in the Family Baltimore American .... 191 Conversation Churchman. 193 30 CONTENTS. PAGB. Speak Chbbkfdl Words Anonymous 194 None Liteth to Himself Anonymous 193 Speak a Good Wohd ; .Anonymous 19ft Smiles Mrs. Burr 197 Joy Bringebs Anonymous 198 Getjmblbrs Anonymous 198 Love to Odb Fellow Men (Abou Ben Adhem). .igiSfA fiwra* 199 Words to Boys James T. Fields 200- The Light of Home Miss Mulock 301 Domestic Bliss James Thomson 201 The Poweb of Home B. 8. Storrs, D.D 303' The Bbight Side The Interior 303- Worth of Looking on the Bright Side Dr. Johnson 303 The Evening Hearth-stone Anonymous 304 Cheerfulness Anonymous 305 Courtesy AT Home Christian Weekly 306 Christian Courtesy Anonymous 308 Sblp-Respbct in Company Lord Chesterfield 308 Models Olitier Goldsmith 308 The Mobality of Manners Rorctce Mann. 309 The Witchery of Manner Anonymous 310^ Best Men, Moulded Out of Faults. Shakespeare 310 Cultivate Patience Anonymous 31S Beware the Fury of a Patient Mast John Dryden 213 A Woman's Cares T. I>e Witt Talmage 314 Woman's Equality Matthew Henry, B.B 315 Woman Si/r Walter Beott 215 Tell Tour Wife Padflc Sural Press 316 Hospitamty Oliver Goldsmith 217 True Hospitality Sir Arthur Helps 817 The Rule of Hospitality William M. F. Bound 319 Never be Ashamed to own the Wrong Alexander Pope 330^ Don't be Too Sensitive ; Anonymous 331 The First Virtue is to Kbstbain the Tongue . Cato 331 The Happiest Home M.A. 8. M. 223' Every Man the Architect of his own FoRTmsfE.&Kwsi 333: 21 CONTENTS. FAOE The Sectjeity of the Nation Daniel Webster 323 Advice to a Young Man John Todd, B.B 233 Education H. W. Beeeher 233 Pbinciples vs. Housemen ob Chariots W. M. Paxton D.D 333 Counsels to the Young Anonymous -224 The Problem op Life Phillips Brooks 225 Example Lord Clarendon 325 Geeat Men Inspibed Cicero 225 To Young Men D. B. Moody 326 Ability and Opportunity Herald and Presbyter 228 Happiness Alexander Pope 230 Domestic Happiness William Cowper 230 Family Life, a Test of Piety Golden Bule ' 231 Aim and Object in Life Rev. C. n. Spurgeon 233 Selfishness William Goicper 233 Life and Religion are One George MacBonald 33E Make Your Mark Bamd Barker 234 The Uses of Adversity Joseph Addison 235 The Good are Better Made by III Samuel Rogers 235 Troubles Strengthen the Soul T.Be Witt Talmnge 335 Folly of Fretting A. A. Lason 336 Never Mind Anonymous 238 Little Troubles Mrs. Amelia E. Barr 339 Anxiety is the Poison op Life • Blair 243 Many Dishes Bring Many Diseases Pliny 243 Transient Troubles Anonymous 245 Working and Waiting. Anonymous 246 Content Mrs. L. H. Sigourney 247 Discordance Shakespeare 247 Let Bygones be Bygones Chambers' Journal 248 The Christian at Home Anonymous 249 Religion in the Family Bishop F. D. Huntington. . 250 Certainties in Religion Rev. Joseph Cook 251 Winning Souls Bishop E. S. Janes 253 The Agencies for Good W. Morley Punshon, LL.D. 253 fouR Mission Baniel March, D.D 254 %% CONTENTS. PAOB The Nobility op Seeticb. /. O. Holland 255 Whatever You Do, Do it Well Anonymous 256 Industry Benjamin Franklin 257 Art— Its Application Sir John Eerschel 257 Know Thyself ' Mrs.Jj. H. Sigourney 258 Noble Thouohts Sir Philip Sidney 259 Importance op Character Methodint Recorder 260 ■Influence of Character Wm. M. Taylor, B.B 262 A Guilty Conscience is Like a Whirlpool Fuller 263 Life not Measured by Time George Gratibe 263 Strength of Character F. W. Robertson, D.D 264 Character. We Take with Ds Humholdt 264 Tendency of Character A.A.Hodge, DB 264 Worth of Character George H. Colton 267 Earnestness of Purpose Timothy Bwight, B.B 267 The Brightest Bow is on the Darkest Cloud. i?". R. Havergal 267 God Alone Comforts and Sustains Queen Victoria 267 Want of Decision Sidney Smith ':.. . 268 Columbus' Faith Turgot 268 Don't be Discouraged Anonymous '269 Influence Charles Bickens 269 Earthly Influence Thomas Garlyle 270 Power of Influence F. W. Faber, B.B 270 Power of Influence Christian Weekly 271 Doing Good Richard Penrose 273 Perpetuity of Influence J. G. Whittier 274 ■Sympathy, Not Lost Anonymous 275 Trials Anonymous 276 Trials, A Test of Character W. Morley Punshon, LL.B. 277 Elements of Success in Life A.B.F. 278 Model Homes Rev. Samuel Fellows, B.B. . 279 Work, for Some Good Mrs. Frances S. Osgood 279 Life's Rests John Rmkin 280 Study Economy Rev. Samtiel Osgood, B.B. . 280 Press on! If. P. WiUis 280 Tears of Sympathy Byron 280 23 CONTENTS. PAGE A WoETHY Ambition John B. Oongh 381 Common TKUTHa Lord Bacon 381 The Summit Gained bt Slow DEaKEES H. W- Longfellow 281 Make Home Life Beadtiful ' Prof. B. O. Northrop 283 Woman at Home T. Be Witt Talmage 383 The Chabm op Woman W. E. Gladstone, M.P 383 Home the Sacred Refuge of our Life Bryden 383 The Homestead Phcibe Gary 284 Home T. Be Witt Talmage 389 The Power op Kindness W. Morley Punshon, LL.B. 389 Rule of Conduct Seneca 389 Fireside Musings Ada A. Ghaffee 290 Early Influences .Bishop Simpson 391 Preference foe the Right Henry Clay 291 a"" Plea for Home Theodore L. Cuyler, B.B. . . 393 Make Some One Happy T Be Witt Talmage 295 Man's Best Powers Point Him Godward Bev. G. JS. Spurgeon 295 Reveries of the Old Kitchen Anonymous 296 Disappointment Thomas Moore 397 The Trials of Home W. K. Tweedie, B.B 398 Sanctified Afflictions Watchman and Reflector. . . 308 'Tis Better to Have Lovbd and Lost Alfred Tennyson 304 Immortality Robert Pollock 304 Death, the Path to God Thomas Parnell. 304 Consolation Mary H. Houghton 305 Resignation H. W. Longfellow 308 Our Baby A. B. F. Randolph 310 My Baby Evangelist 311 Childhood John Q. Whittier 315 Our Dear Ones James Aldrich 316 'Tis a Blessing to Live John K. Mitchell 316 Baby Bell Thomas Bailey Aldrich. ... 317 Our Dead Children Rev. E. H. Ghapin, B.B 330 The Little Children Henry W. Lonr/fellow 321 Are All the Children In ? Mrs. 8. T. Perry 322 Are the Children at Home ? Mrs. M. E. Sangster 323 24 CONTENTS. TAOE A Link Between Angels and Men Martin P. Tapper 325 Death of Children Charles Wadsworth, D.D. . . 333 Bind Up the Bbokbn-Hbaktbd G. H. Spurgeon 337 Quiet Usefulness John Hall, B.D 337 Home Bereavements Henry Ward Beecher 338 The Angel-Child Mrs. 0. L. Sice 331 An Angel Met My Gaze James Russell Lowell 331 Empty Cradles Mrs. O. A. H. McLeod 332 My Child John Pierpoiit 334 Sunshine for the Sorrowing Theodore L. Cuyler, B.D. . . 336 We Know Not What is Before Us Mary Q. Brainard 338 Passing Away ". Mrs. F. D. Hemans 339 By-and-By Mrs. Preston '. . . 341 Broken Tibs Christian Weekly 343 The Higher and Better Life James A. Garfield 343 New Every Morning Susan Coolidge 344 Computation of Life J. B. Blanche 345 Life's Epitaph Gongregationalist 348 The Life Clock Anonymous 347 Life's Boundaky Line, or The Doomed Man. ..J. A. Alexander, D.D 348 Brevity of Life Henry King 350 Responsibilities of Life ; Alexander Heed, D.D. 350 Life Lord Byron 351 Mystery of Life Anna Letitia Barbaidd. ... 351 Boundaries of Life Oliver Wendell Holmes.. . . . 352 The Vanity op Life Edward Toung 352 Life, A Book John Mason 352 Our Life a Sermon T. De Witt Talmage 353 How TO Live William 0. Bryant 353 God's Demands Rev. William Jay 353 The Voyage of Life Madam Ottyon 354 Christiait Living 2f. Y. Observer 337 False Pride in Life John Q. Saxe 357 Life Reacting Upon Life U. Bulwer Lytton 358 Make the Best of Life Jofm Milton 358 JIuTUAL Dependence Seneca 353 25 CONTENTS. FAQi: ;Do THT Neabest Duty Qoethe 858 Turn Amusement to Eternal Advantage .... Joseph Addison 3S8 YouNO Men Leaving Home Christian Voices 361 Worldly Pleasures and their Influence Dr. James Walker 363 The Criterion of Judgment Lord Chesterfield 363 Scorn Pleasure which Gives Pain James Thomson 363 Labor is the True Alchemist W. Morley Pumhon, LL.D. 363 Strike While the Iron is Hot Oliver Cromwell 363 Returning Home Miss Mulock 364 Traveling Home Bryan W. Proctor 364 Home, Sweet Home John Howard Payne 365 Memory of Home T. Buclmnan Reed 365 -Joys of Home John Bowring 366 Harvest Home James Montgomery 367 ■Our Last Farewells Carlos Wilcox 368 Farewell to Home Robert Sovihey 368 The Family Meeting Charles Sprague 371 The Way to Heaven Bishop of Lonsdale 376 Thoughts of Heaven Bishop Some 376 Heaven Fanny J. Crosby 379 The Apostle John's Idea op Heaven J.W. Alexander, D.D 380 Paul's Estimate op Heaven Hannah More 380 Heaven, a Home Thomas Chithrie, D.D. .... 381 Beautiful Within Socrates 381 Heaven Daniel March, D.D 382 Heaven, a City Thomas Outhrie, D.D 382 Heaven, a Eesting-Place Charles Maehay 383 My Father's House ..... .Mrs. H. B. Stowe 384 The Heavenly Place Howa/rd Crosby, D.D 385 26 CONTENTS. PAGE. Thoughts of Heaven William Pearce 387 Recognition in Hkaven Boherl Southey 388 Heavenly Recognition Bishop Thomas Ken 388 Attractions of Heaven Bernard Barton 389 The True End op Life William Perm 389 Entering Heaven Rev. J. L. Harris 390 The Wonders op Heaven John Newton 893 Delights op Heaven Dr. Isaac Watts 393 Ignorance of the Future Life Richard Baxter 393 Beautiful Heaven Delia E. Walker 394. Songs in Heaven M. T. B 395 Hymns op Heaven Theo. L. Cuyler, D.D 398- EcHOES from Heaven John Gumming, D.D 397 Heavenly Realities Miss Marsh 398 The Christian in Heaven JoJm 8. C. Abbott, D.D 393- The Land OP Beulah G. nuntington 402' The Silent Shore Gharles Lamb 403' The Death of the Righteous Dean Millman 403- Heaven — Not fab Away A nonymous 404. There is no Death Bidwer Lytton 40T Our Friends in Heaven Anonymous 409" Glimpses of Heaven Bev. Theo. L. Cuyler 411 Three Unchangeables Matthew Senry, D.D 413- The Path op Sorrow Leads to Heaven WiUiam Gowper 41S The Starless Crown J. L. H. 414, Bringing Our Sheaves with Us Elizabeth Akers 416' The Shore of Eternity p. W. Paher.D.D 417 Hymns of Longing fob Rest Tlieo. L. Giiyler, D.D 419« Lsfants in Heaven iJeo. Jos. McDonald, D.D.. 433 Reunion in Heaven W. Mm-ley Punshon, LL.D. 433' What Must it Be to Be There ? Mrs. Elizabeth Mills, 424;- Joy in the Morning Rev. Dwight WiUiams 425* My Responsibility to God Daniel Webster 42® The Sunset Hour op Life Anonymous 427 The Joy op Incompleteness Sunday Magazine 42$ There's Nothing True but Heaven TJwmas Moore 429» 27 CONTENTS. FAUB Departtjeb of Friends James Montgomery 430 Xo Sects in Heaven Mrs. Eliz. M. Jocelyn 431 Heaven F.W. Faber, D.D 435 Anticipation of Heaven Thomas Muore 436 A Home in Heaven William Hunter 437 Those Mansions Above Parish Visitor 438 At Home in Heaven Gharles F. Deems, D.D 440 Meetnbss fob Heaven . . .• United Presbyterian 442 Foretokens of Heaven R. W. Hamilton 44S Blessed akb the Home Sick Heinrich Stillings 443 Joys of Heaven Nancy A. W. Priest 444 Unvailed Heaven Ernst Lange, D.D 445 Three Steps to Heaven , Rowland Hill. 445 Immortality George D. Prentice 446 Say not " Good Night " Anna Letitia Barbauld. . . . 446 Time and Eternity Horatius Bonar 447 No Night in Heaven Anonymous 443 No Sorrow There Daniel March, D.D 449 Heaven Wm. A. Muhlenberg, D.D. 450 The Consecration Mrs. F. B. Havergal 451 Farewell Life, Welcome Life Thomas Hood 452 The End Anonymous 452 0OOD Night J. W. A. Neander. 453 Benediction Anonymous 454 38 Tis a mother's large affection Hears with a mysterious sense,— Breathings that escape detection Whisper faint, and fine inflection Thrill in her with power intense. Childhood's honeyed words untaught Hiveth she in loving thought. Tones that never thence depart. For she listens — with her heart. LAMAN BLANCHARD. All that I am or hope to be I owe to my mother. ABRAHAM LINCOUI*, -A THE JWTHE^'S TIlEJiSUIfr MOTHER. (WRITTEN EXPRESSLY FOR THIS WORK BY FANNY J. CROSBY. HE light, the spell-word of the heart, Our guiding star in weal or woe, Our talisman — our earthly chart — That sweetest name that earth can know. We breathed it first with lisping tongue When cradled in her arms we lay ; Fond memories round that name are hung. That will not, cannot pass away. We breathed it then^ we breathe it still, More dear than sister, friend, or brother j The gentle power, the magic thrill, «Awakened at the name of moiher. 83 MY MOTHER DEAR. ^ ^ S. LOVBK. HEEE was a place in childhood that I remember well, { And there a voice of sweetest tone bright fairj tales did 'l^ And gentle words, and fond embrace, were given with joy to me. When I was in that happy place upon my mother's knee. "When fairy tales were ended, " Good night," she softly said, And Mssed, and laid me down to sleep, within my tiny bed, And holy words she taught me then — methints I yet can see Her angel eyes, as close I knelt beside my mother's knee. In the sickness of my childhood, the perils of my prime, The sorrows of my riper years, the cares of ev'ry time, "When doubt and danger weighed me down, then pleading all for me, it was a fervent prayer to Heaven that bent my mother's knee. MOTHER. Joanna Baillie. 'HEN we are sick, where can we turn for succor ; "When we are wretched, where can we complain ; And when the world looks cold and surly on us. Where can we go to meet a warmer eye With such sure confidence as to a mother ? 34 EOTHER, HOME', ANC HBAYEH. Maey J. Muoiti* HERE are three words that sweetly blend, That on the heart are graven ; A precious soothing balm they lend — They're Mother, Home, and Heaven ' They twine a wreath of beauteous flowers, Which, placed on memory's urn, 'Will e'en the longest, gloomiest hours To golden sunlight turn ! ' They form a chain whose every link Is free from base alloy ; A stream where whosoever drinks Will find refreshing joy ! They build an altar whei-e each day Love's offering is renewed ; And peace illumes with genial ray Life's darkened solitude ! If from our side the first has fled, And Home be but a name. Let's strive the narrow path to tread, That we the last may gain ! 35 MOTHER. E. L. CassanoVia. ilD life's comrootion — dismal fears — Mid cares and woes, and floods of tears, ^^^ How sweetly breaks upon the ear Some word of comfort or of cheer; Yet of our friends there's not another Who speaks as gently as our mother. Here disappointments crowd each day, Our brightest hopes soon fade away, And friends long trusted oft deceive ; "We scarcely know whom to believe. Yet, though we fear to trust each othei-, We are not afraid to trust our mother. Yet here where there's so much deceit, Some friends we have we love to meet ; There's love we know that will endure, Not sordid, selfish, but all pure ; But though beloved by sister, brother, There's none that love us like our mother. Among the names to mortals given, There's none like mother, home, and heaven ;■ For home's no home without her care ; And heaven, we know she will be there ; Then let us, while we love each other, Remember and be kind to mother. 36 THE MOTHER AT HOME. lltECHBISHOP LEIGHTON says, " Fill the bushel with good ' wheat, and there will be no room for chaff and rubbish." This is a good thought for every mother while tending her children, and watching the growth of their power in body and mind. " As soon as they be bom," the Bible says, " children go astray, speaking lies." So soon, therefore, will a Christian mother begin to " train her child in the way he should go," that good habits may be formed, ready to carry out good principles as the child grows old enough to understand the reason for his conduct. Good moral habits are essential to the healthfulness of the home ; and these may be best taught by the watchful mother's training. One important part of her work is to remove hindrances out of her children's way to health and happiness. No dirt, or dirty habits^ for example, should be permitted. Washing their hands and faces many times in the day will often remove a sense of discomfort -which makes them fretful, as also will giving them food at regular periods. Eagged dress, too, and broken fastenings, add a feeling ^f degradation, that a careful mother will prevent as far as possible by Keeping their clothes whole, neat, and clean. Making their own garments, we may here remark, gives useful employment to girls, and is an important aid in training them up to thrifty habits. Many families go in rags because they never learned to sew ; while the same wages in the hands of those who know how to employ that useful " one-eyed servant," the needle, keep the household ^ookJpg always respectable. 37 THE MOTHER AT HOME. Children should also have time to play. Happiness is a great promoter of health. The Bible mentions " boys and girls playing in the streets," as one sign of national prosperity. They do not need expensive toys. A little French prince turned from his new year's present of toys from an empress grandmother to watch some peasants making dirt pies, and, it is said, begged the queen his- mother to allow him to join in the sport which seemed so charming to his childish eye, as oifering some scope to his ingenuity. A few old bits of ^yood, or scraps of broken crockery, stones, and oyster- shells, aiford inexhaustible amusement, cost nothing, and do not spoil ; while if the mother will now and then put in a word to show an interest in her little ones' games, her own spirit will be refreshed and cheered by their light-heartedness. Children are wonderful imitators, so that it is comparatively easy to "lead them early into good ways. They are never so happy as when trying to do what they see older people do. Their plays chiefly consist in copying elders. The little cottager "makes believe " to go to market, to plant a garden, to make hay, to wash,, to build, to cook, and to teach in school. The boys are never merrier th^n when playing at horses, or in some other way aspiring^ to be like their elders. Many of these games bring the bodily organs into excellent exercise, and strengthen and build up the system wonderfully. These amusements, too, often really prepare the children for the actual business of life, so that they the sooner become helpful to their parents. They should be watched and encouraged therefore in their play to habits of thoughtfulness and self-reliance. Let it be remembered also, that, while by all means it is well to send children to school, the largest portion of their education, whether for good or evil, is carried on at home, often unconsciously^ in their amusements, and under the daily influence of what they 38 TRB MOTHBH AT HOME. see and hear about them. It is there that " subtle brains and lis- som fingers " find scope, and learn to promote the well-being of the community. We cannot tell what duties our children may be called to perform in after-life; many of England's greatest men were born poor cottagers. But we can, in a great measure, preserve their brains and limbs from injury; we can cultivate their faculties, and teach them to exercise all their senses— to use their hands diligently and skillfully, to observe with their eyes, to listen to good instruction ; in short, we can, by God's help, teach them, as the- prophet says, " to choose the good and refuse the evil." We can encourage them to be apt to learn, so that they may with readiness set about any duty which God may place before them. Are the children naughty ? Must they be punished ? " The Lord loveth the son whom He chasteneth ; " " As many as I love I rebuke and chasten," are texts which will mitigate the anger of both father and mother, and teach them to adopt such means of correc- tion as shall improve instead of harden their children's minds. Is a little daughter lame and sickly? Does a son get into a hard place? , " Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him ;" "As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I com- fort you," saith the Lord. Does work fail and removal among strangers seem inevitable? The children's conclusion that " Father will see about it," " Mother will be with us," are phrases full of deeper meaning to their parents' ears as they raise their hearts to God, and remember, " Thou com- passest my path;" "Thou knowest my way;" "Though I walk through the midst of trouble Thou wilt revive me." " Within Thy circling power I stand, On every side I find Thine hand : Awake, asleep, at home, abroad, 1 am surrounded still by God." 39 A MOTHER'S LOVE. And when strength fails, and a dear child is langnishing into another life beyond the grave, who can tend the dying bed like a mother ? In whom is there so much trust as in a father's love "i Talk about duty to children, there is no pleasure sweeter than that :>f training them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, repaid as it is by their fervent friendship in after-life, and the hope of presenting them washed in a Saviour's blood and faiiltless before ihe great white throne at the last day. — Mother'' s Treasury. A MOTHER'S LOYE, (typical of god's love.) : IKE a cradle rocking, rocking, Silent, peaceful, to and fro ; Like a mother's sweet looks dropping On the little face below. Hangs the green earth, swinging, turning, Jarless, noiseless, safe and slow ; Falls the light of God's face bending Down and watching us below. And as feeble babes that suffer, Toss and cry, and will not rest, Are the ones tlie tender mother Holds the closest, loves the best : Bo, when we are weak and wretched, By our sins weighed down, distressed. Then it is that God's great patience Holds us closest, loves us best. 40 Saxb Holm. ■^^ A MOTHER'S HEART. LITTLE dreaming, such as mothers know ; A little lingering over dainty things ; A happy heart, wherein hope all aglow Stirs like a bird at dawn that wakes and singS; And that is all. A little clasping to her yearning breast ; A little musing over future years ; A hearL that prays : " Dear Lord, thou knowest best — Eut spare my flower life's bitterest rain of tears"— And that is all. A little spirit speeding through the night ; A little home grown lonely, dark and chill ; A sad heart groping for the light ; A little snow-clad grave beneath the hill — . And that is all. A little gathering of life's broken thread ; A little patience keeping back the tears ; A heart that sings, " Thy darling is not dead, God keeps her safe through his eternal years " — And that is all. — Mucmillan's Magazine, The love principle is stronger than the force principle. Dr. A. A. Hodga, c 41 A MOTHER'S IKFLUEKCB. J. M. Matthews, D. D. E have read history to little purpose if we have not ob- served that tliere are periods when corruption seems to acquire a peculiar and fearful sway in our world | and these sad changes are generally attributed to th'e influence of some distinguished leader or leaders in wickedness, who im- press their own corrupt image on the generation in which they live. But if we trace the evils to their true source, we must go far- ther back than to the men who stand thus prominent in producing them. Had I time, I would here show, that all those great changes from bad to worse which have rendered nations so corrupt as to consign them to ruin, have been effected through the corrupting influence of mothers, acting on those in childhood, who in manhood became the leading men of their day. Such, the Holy Scriptures inform us, . was the real cause of that awful wickedness which brought the waters of the deluge on the earth. It was not till "the sons of Gpd ,tQpk to them wives of the daughters of men " (thus contracting xinhaUowed and forbidden alliances), that the wickedness, of man became sO great in the earth, that it repented the Lord that he had made man, and^ie- said, I will destroy man which I created from the face of the earth." And what is so marked as the immediate cause of the wide-spread depravity which called for the destruction of a world, is equally marked in other parts of the Scriptures, as the grand source of ruin to the nations whose history they record. Have you never observed how frequently they allude to the mothers of Israel and of Jndah's- kings, when in the days of the nation's decline the throne passed in> 42 A MOTBSR' S INFLUENCE. such rapid succession from one king to another, " who did evil in the sight of the Lord ?" The career of guilt and declension was some- time checked by the raising up of one good king who walked in the way of the Lord. Such was Josiah, of' whom we are told, "his, 'WiQther's name was Jedediah ; " a name which at once annoimces her piety sind worth. But see how the parentage of the wicked and , idolatrous kings iS noted: We are told of Abijah, the grandson of ,$,G}onion, Avho was perhaps the first .who filled the land with idolatry, that his mother's name was Maachah. Of Aliaziah, the son of Ahab, tylio did evil exceedingly in' the .sight of the Lord, we are told that •his Mother was Jezebel, who stirred up his father. Ahab to sin. Ire like ■manner-we are told of Jehoahaz, that his mother's name was ilamutal; ofJ^hoiakim, that his mother's name was Zebadah; of : J.ehoiachin, that his mother's name was Nehushta: names which,, taken Jn oorihection with their histoiy, sufficiently show the evil eoiirses,, they pursued, and the consequent evil anfluence they would'. ' .exert; ','^- ■ '< .■ - : ■■ '^ Now, vihj was this all so carefully noted? . It was to show that tw-baine of the nation was found 'in the nurseries of her kings^- Where their infant minds' were tainted and poisoned by their Jezebel • md&ers ; andtjiat being thus, early led into sin, when in after-life they gained the throne", their baleful influence. was felt in spreading wickedness around them, till their nation was carried away into cap- tivity, and their land left a desolation. It was the corrupt queen- ! mothers corrupting the minds of their infant sons, who were to be, ifi future, 'kings, that primarily and mainly drew down the anger of CTiod ; ilor -^^as it till this insidious source of evil had been for gener- ations at work, that hope finally perished. * But if maternal influence is thus powerful for evil, it is equahy powerful for good, when rightly and wisely employed. Nor do I believe the assertion at all too strong, when I say, that the greatest 43 A MOTHER' S INFLUENCE. and best of those whom we count among the great and good of our race, have always derived the elements of their characters from maternal care bestowed on them in childhood. If, in all the annals of the human race, there be an exception to our position, let it be named; let us be told where it is. It cannot be found in the pages of sacred history. The testimony here, respecting those whose names it has embalmed for immortality, is all one way. Such, it tell us, was the training under which the childhood of Moses was passed. The faith and piety of his mother was so strong, that " she did not fear the king's wrath ; " thus showing herself a lit mother for a son who was to be the deliverer of Israel irom Egyptian bondage, and the lawgiver to the redeemed nation. And who does not see the hand and design of God in that wonderful train of events which secured to the child of such high destiny, the care of a mother so peculiarly fitted for her task ? Under a like happy influence was the childhood of David passed, as he acknowl- edges in his subsequent days of power and fame : " O Loi'd, truly I am Thy servant ; I am Thy servant, and the son of Thine handmaid : Thou hast loosed my bonds. I will offer to thee t4e sacrifice of thanksgiving, and will call upon the name of the Lord : '' thus in the days of his highest prosperity and greatest fame, recog- nizing his pious mother's influence, not only as having mainly contributed to elevate him to Israel's throne, but as having been the bright star which kept alive his hope in the darkest hour of his pre'sdous troubles. To the same cause, as already observed, in the case of Josiah, are we taught to attribute, in great measure, the wisdom and power which distinguished such of Judah's kings as " did that which was right in the sight of the Lord." Again : John, the forei'unner of our Saviour, is said to have had none greater than himself of all who had been born of women. But his mother was Elizabeth, a woman who "walked in all the commandments 44 ^1 MOTHER'S INFLUENCE. and ordinances of the Lord blameless." Again : among the apostles of our Lord was one distinguished as " a son of thunder ; " and another privileged to "lean on his Master's bosom," and to receive very special tokens of His love. But when we are told of the piety and holy ambition of their mother, we may account, at least in part, for their distinction among the twelve (Matt. xx. 20, 21). And not to mention others from the sacred Scriptures, as Timothy, whose "unfeigned faith dwelt first in his grandmother Lois, and his mother Eunice ; " on whom, let me ask, has the Saviour's mantle ever fallen, or in whom has His Spirit ever dwelt, with peculiar manifestation, who may not be added to the cloud of witnesses on this point ? In far-gone times, look into the biographies of Polycarp, Augustine, Justin, Gregory, and others of the Fathers ; and in latter days, look to the childhood of Matthew Henry, Edwards, Dwight, Payson, and the whole army of those, at home and abroad, who are this day owned and hailed as the champions of truth, and you will find them all, without exception, to have been the sons of pious and faithful mothers. Nor is it only from the great and illustrious in the Church that we may collect such facts. Look around you, and see what are the families from which religion derives its most devoted and faithful friends. From what dwellings come the sacramental host who fill the Lord's table when it is spread, and not only there confess His name before men, but are the foremost in efforts to spread His name through the world ? Do they come from families where the mothei, though she may rule as a queen of fashion, and is perhaps rich in every worldly endowment, yet loves not God, and finds no place for him in her heart and her labors? Far from it. They come, and come almost exclusively, from households where the mother is a Christian ; where the nursery for the family is a nursery for the church ; where the first lispings of childhood are accents of 45 ^ MOTHER' S INFLUENCE. prayer, and the first thoughts of the heart thoughts of God and of His Christ. "Just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclined." But who bends the twig ? Who has the mind or character in land while it is yet so flexible and ductile that it can be turned in any direction, or formed in any shape? It is the mother. From her own nature, and the nature of her child, it results that its first impressions must be taken from her. And she has every advantage for discharging the duty. She is always with her child — if she is where mothers ought to be — sees continually the work- ings of faculties ; where they need to be restrained, and where led and attracted. Early as she may begin her task, let her be assured, that her labor will not be lost because undertaken too soon. Mind, from the first hour of its existence, is ever acting ; and soon may a mother see that, carefully as she may study her child, quite as carefully is her child studying her. Let her watch the varying expression of its speaking face, as its eyes follow her, and she will perceive its mind is imbibing impressions from everything it gees her do ; and thus showing, that, before the lips have begun to utter words, the mind has begun to act, and to form a character. Let her watch on ; and when, under her care, the expanding facul- ties have begun to display themselves in the sportiveness of play, how often will she be surprised to find the elements of character already fixed, when she has least expected it. She has but to watch, and she will find the embryo tyrant or philanthropist, warrior or peace-maker, with her in her nursery ; and then, if ever, her con- stant prayer should be, " How shall I order the child, and what shall I do unto him ? " For, what he is to be, and what he is to do, in any of these characters, she must now decide. It is a law of our being that makes it so ; a law that I could wish were written on every mother's heart by the finger of God, and on the walls of her nursery 46 A MOTBER' S INFLUENCE. ia letters of gold, that the mmd of childhood is like wax to receive, bat like marble to hold, every impression made upon it, be it for good or for evil. Let her then improve her power as she ought, "being steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work" which God requires at her hands ; and let her Icnow that her labor is not in vain in the Lord. For, even though her own eyes may not be privileged to witness in her child all that is noble and great and good, she may at least save him when her course on earth is finished. It is no picture of the imagination that I hold out, when I ask you to come and see the son of a faithful mother, who has long pursued his course of crime, till he seems hardened against everything good or true ; yea, at times " sits in the seat of the scorner," and scoffs at everything holy and good — but yet, hardened and dead as his heart may seem, as to everything else you may urge, there is one point on which, till his dying day, he can be made to feel. You touch it when you remind him of what he saw and felt when a child under the care of a tender mother. His sensibilities there he never utterly loses ; and often, often, by that, as the last cord which holds him from utter perdition, is the prodigal drawn back and restored ; so that, though "dead, he is alive again," though once "lost, he is found." Such are some of the illustrations of a mother's power to do good to those most dear to her, and of the responsibility that springs from it. There is no influence so powerful as hers on the coming destinies of the church and the world. She acts a part in forming the minis- ters of religion and the rulers of the land, without which all subse- quent training is comparatively vain. And to her, also, it falls to train those who are to be mothers when she is gone, and to do for their generation what she has done for hers. 47 A MOTHER'S PRAYER. HE sweetest sound heard througli our earthly homey The brightest ray that gleams from heaven's dome,- The loveliest flower that e'er from earth's breast rose That purest flame that, quivering, gleams and glows, Are found alone, where kneels a mother mild, With heart uplifted, praying for her child. The stream of tears can never cease to flow Long as life's sun shall shine on us below 5 And many angels have been sent by God To count the tear-drops wept upon life's road ; But of all the tears that flow, the least defiled Are when a mother prays beside her child. Because it is to mortal eyes unseen, Ye call it foolishness, a childish dream. In vain, ye cannot rob me of that thought. That legend with such heavenly sweetness fraught, That blessed angels have for ages smiled To see a mother praying for her child. — Anonymous. A Kiss from my mother made me a painter. — Benjamin West. 48 THE MOTHER. „ Thomas Campbeli,, : O ! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps, Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps ; She, while the lovely babe unconscious lies, Smiles on her slumbering child with pensive eyes. And weaves a song of melancholy joy, — ' ' Sleep, image of thy father, sleep, my boy : No lingering hour of sorrow shall be thine ; No sigh that rends thy father's heart and mine ; Bright as his manly sire the son shall be In form and soul ; but ah ! more blest than he ! Thy fame, thy worth, thy filial love, at last, Shall soothe this aching heart for all the past, With many a smile my solitude repay. And chase the world's ungenerous scorn away. " And say, when summoned from the world and the^ I lay my head beneath the willow-tree, Wilt thou, sweet mourner ! at my stone appear, And soothe my parted spirit lingering near ? Oh, wilt thou come, at evening hour, to shed The tears of memory o'er my narrow bed ; With aching temple on thy hand reclined. Muse on the last farewell I leave behind, Breathe a deep sigh to winds that murmur low, And think on all my love, and all my woe ? " So speaks affection, ere the infant eye Can look regard, or brighten in reply, 49 TIBBD MOTHERS. But when the cherub lip hath learnt to claim A mother's ear by that endearing name ; Soon as the playful innocent can prove A tear of pity, or a smile of love, Or cons his murmuring tasks beneath her care, Or lisps, with holy look, his evening prayer, Or gazing mutely pensive, sits to hear The mournful ballad warbled in his ear ; How fondly looks admiring hope the while, At every artless tear, and every smile ! How glows the joyous parent to descry A guileless bosom, true to sympathy ! TIRED MOTHERS. Mrs. Mavt Rilbt Smtth. LITTLE elbow leans upon your knee — Your tired knee that has so much to bear ; A child's dear eyes are looking lovingly From underneath a thatch of tangled hair. Perhaps you do not heed the velvet touch Of warm, moist fingers holding you $*> ti^ht ; Tou do not prize the blessing overmuch — You almost are too tired to pray to-night. But it is blessedness ! A year ago I did not see it as I do to-day — We are all so dull and thankless, and too slow To catch the sunshine till it slips away. 50 TIRED MOTHERS. And now it seems surpassing strange to me That while I wore the badge of motherhood I did not kiss more oft and tenderly The little child that brought me only good. And if, some night, when you sit down to rest, You miss the elbow from your tired knee ; This restless curly head from off your breast ; This lisping tongue that chatters constantly ; if from your own, the dimpled hands had slipped, And ne'er would nestle in your palm again ; If the white feet into the grave had tripped — I could not blame you for your heartache then, I wonder so that mothers ever fret At their little children clinging to their gowns ; Or that the footprints, when the days are wet, Are ever black enough to make them frown ! If I could find a little muddy boot, Or cap, or jacket, on my chamber floor — If I could kiss a rosy, restless foot. And hear it patter in my house once more ; If I could mend a broken cart to-day, To-morrow make a kite to reach the sky — There is no woman in God's world could say She was more blissfully content than I ! But, ah, the dainty pillow next mine own Is never rumpled by a shining head, My singing birdling from its nest has flown — ■ The little boy I used to kiss — ^is dead ! 51 MOTHERS OF DISTIHCUISHED MEU. IMOTHY, from a child, knew the Scriptures, being taught them by his mother and his grandmother. ^^' Dr. Doddridge's mother taught him the history of the- Old and New Testaments before he could read. This was done- I by means of Dutch tiles in the chimney. Her wise and pious reflections upon the stories there represented, made good im- pression on his mind ; and he never lost them. Bishop Hall says that he could bless the memoiy of his mother, who taught him so much divine truth, and gave him so many pious^ lectures. J. S. C. Abbott says in his " Mother at Home," that in a college- ■w-here one hundred and twenty young men were preparing for the ministry, it was found that more than one hundred had been led tO' Christ by their mothers. John Randolph, of Eoanoke, was deeply attached to his mother,, and her death had a melancholy and striking effect upon him ever afterwards. She was but thirty-six years old when she died. Cut off in the bloom of youth and beauty, he always retained a vivid remembrance of her person, her charms, and her -virtues. He always kept her portrait hanging, before him in his chamber. The loss to him was irreparable. She knew him — she knew the delicacy of his heart, the waywardness and irritability of his temper. "I am a fatalist," said he, "I am all but friendless — only one human' being ever knew me. She only knew me — my mother." He always spoke of her in terms of the warmest affection.. Many and MOTSEBS OF DISTINGUISHED MEN. anany a time during his life did he visit the old churchyard* at Matoax, in its wasted solitude, and shed tears over the grave of his rmother, by whose side it was the last wish of his heart to be buried. Henry Clay, the pride and honor of his country, always ex- jpressed feelings of profound affection and veneration for his mother. A habitual correspondence and enduring affection subsisted between them to the last hour of life. Mr. Clay ever spoke of her as a model -of maternal character and female excellence, and it is said that he inever met his constituents in Woodford county, after her death, -without some allusion to her, which deeply affected both him and his •audience. And nearly the last words uttered by this great states- man, when he came to die, were, "Mother, mother, mother." It is natural for us to feel that she must have been a good mother, that was loved and so dutifully served by such a boy, and that neither -could have been wanting in rare virtues. Benjamin Franklin was accustomed to refer to his mother in the itenderest tone of filial affection. His respect and affection for her were manifested, among other ways, in frequent presents, that con- tiibuted to her comfort and solace in her advancing years. In one ■of his letters to her,, for example, he sends her a moidore, a gold piece of the value of six dollars, " toward chaise hire," said he, " that you may ride warm to meetings during the winter." In another he gives her an account of the growth and improvement of his son and daughter — topics which, as he well understood, are ever as dear to .the grandmother as to the mother. . Thomas Gray, author of " Elegy in a Country Churchyard," was most assiduous in his attentions to his mother while she lived, and, :after her death, he cherished her memory with sacred sorrow. Mr. Mason informs us that Gray seldom mentioned his mother without a sigh. The inscription which he placed over her remains speaks of iher as " the careful, tender mother of many children, one of whom 53 MOTMBRS OF DISTINGUISHED MEN. alone had the misfortune to survive her." How touching is this brief tribute of grateful love ! Volumes of eulogy could not increas* onr admiration of the gentle being to whom it was paid — ^her patient devotion, her meek endurance. Wherever the name and genius of Gray are known, there shall also his mothei-'s virtues be told for a memorial of her. He was buried, according to his directions, by the side of his mother, in the churchyard at Stoke. After his death her gowns and wearing apparel were found in a trunk in his apartments, just as she had left them. It seemed as if he could never take the resohition to open it, in order to distribute them to his female rela- tions, to whom, by his will, he bequeathed them. Amos Lawrence always spoke of his mother in the strongest terms of veneration and love, and in many letters to his children and grandchildren, are found messages of affectionate regard for his mother, such as could have emanated only from a heart overflowing with filial gratitude. Her form, bending over his bed in silent prayer, at the hour of twilight, when she was about leaving him for the night, was among the earliest and most cherished recollections of his early years and his childhood's home. Sergeant S. Peentiss.— From his mother Mr. Prentiss inherited those more gentle qualities that ever characterized his life — qualities that shed over his eloquence such bewitching sweetness, and gave to his social intercourse such an indescribable charm. A remarkably characteristic anecdote illustrates his filial affection. When on a visit, some years ago, to the North, but after his reputation had become wide-spread, a distinguished lady, of Portland, Me., took pains to obtain an introduction, by visiting the steamboat in which slie learned he was to take his departure in a few moments. " 1 have wished to see you," said she to Mr. Prentiss, " for my heart has often congratulated the mother who haa such a son." ' Rather congratulate the son on having such a nwther^'' was his 54 MOTBERS OF DI STI N G UIS HE Ji MEN. i instant and heartfelt reply. This is but one of the many instances in which the most distinguished men of all ages have been proud to refer to the early culture of intellect, the promptings of virtue, or the aspirations of piety, and to the influence of the mother's early training. Francis Marion. — General Marion was once a plodding young; farmer, and in no way distinguished as superior to the young men of the neighborhood in which he lived, except for his devoted love and marked respect for his excellent mother, and exemplary honor and truthfulness. In these qualities he was eminent from early child- hood, and they marked his character through life. We may remark, in this connection, that it is usual to aifect some degree of astonish- ment when we read of men whose after fame presents a striking contrast to the humility of their origin ; yet we must recollect that it is not ancestry and splendid descent, but education and circumstances, which form the man. It is often a matter of surprise that distin- guished men have such inferior children, and that a great name is seldom perpetuated. The secret of this is as otlen evident: the mothers have been inferior — mere ciphers in the scale of existence. AH the splendid advantages procured by wealth and the father's position, cannot supply this one deficiency in the mother, who gives character to the child. Sam Houston's mother was an extraordinary woman. She was distinguished by a full, rather tall and matronly form, a fine carriage, and an impressive and dignified countenance. She was gifted with intellectual and moral qualities, which elevated her, in a still more striking manner, above most of her sex. Her life shone with purity and benevolence, and yet she was nerved with a stern fortitude, which never gave way in the midst of the wild scenes that checkered the history of the frontier settlers. Mrs. Houston was left with the heavy burden of a numerous family. She had six sons and three 55 MOTHERS AND SONS. daughters, but she was not a woman to succumb to misfortune, and she made ample provision, for one in her circumstances, for their future care and education. To bring up a large family of children in a proper manner is, under the most favorable circumstances, a great work ; and in this case it rises into sublimity ; for there is no liner instance of heroism than that of one parent, especially a mother, laboring for that end alone. The excellent woman, says Goethe, is she who, if her husband dies, can be a father to her children. As wife and mother, a woman is seen in her most sacred and dignified character, as such she has great influence over the characters •of individuals, over the condition of families, and over the destinies of empires. It is a fact that many of our noblest patriots, our most profound scholars, and our holiest ministers, were stimulated to their excellence and usefulness by those holy principles which they derived in early years from pious mothers. Our mothers are our earliest instructors, and they have an in- fluence over us, the importance of which, for time and eternity, surpasses the power of language to describe. Every mother should be a Sabbath School teacher. Her own children should be her class ; and her home should be her school- house. Then her children will bless her for her tenderness and care ; for her pious instructions, her fervent prayers, and the holy exam- ple. — Anonymous. MOTHERS AID SONS. SOST boys go through a period, when they have great need of patient love at home. They are awkward and clumsy, sometimes strangely willful and perverse, and they are des- 56 MOTHEMS AND SONS. peratelj conscious of themselves, and very sensitive to tlje least word of censure or effort at restraint. Authority frets them. They are leaving childhood, but they have not yet reached the sober good sense of manhood. Tliey are an easy prey to the tempter and the sophist. Perhaps they adopt skeptical views, from sheer desire to prove that they are independent, and can do their own thinking. Now is the mother's hour. Her boy needs her now more than when he lay in his cradle. Her finer insight and serener faith may hold him fast, and prevent his drifting into dangerous courses. At all events there is very much that only a mother can do for her son, and that a son can receive only from his mother, in the critical period of which we are thinking. It is well for him, if she have kept the freshness and brightness of her youth, so that she can now be his companion and friend as well as mentor. It is a good thing for a boy to be proud of his mother; to feel complacent when he introduces her to his comrades, knowing that they cannot help seeing what a pretty wouian she is, so graceful, winsome, and attractive ! There is always hope for a boy when he admires his mother, and mothers should care to be admirable in the eyes of their sons. Not merely to pos- sess characters which are worthy of res})ect, but to be beautiful and charming, so far as they can, in person and appearance. The neat dress, the becoming ribbon, and smooth hair are all worth thinking about, when regarded as means of retaining influence over a soul, when the world is spreading lures for it on every side. Above all things, mothers need faith. Genuine, hearty, loving trust in God, a life of meek, glad acquiescence in His will, lived daily through years in the presence of sons, is an immense power. They never can get away from the sweet memory that Christ was their mother's friend. There is a reality in that which no false re ■- soning can persuade them to regard as a figment of the imaginatio?! — OhrisUa/n Intelligencer. D 57 THE MOTHER'S PRAYER. : UT in the wide world, somewhere roaming . In the misty chill of this twilight gloaming, Homeless and friendless, with only the care Which Heaven provides for the birds of the air : Without shelter or bread, Only sad stars overhead, And a heart overwhelmed with devouring despair — Out in the wide world somewhere— somewhere. With garments all tattered, and filthy and worn ; With feet that are blistered, and shoes that are torn ; With eyes that are heavy, and drooping, and dim ; And a heart that is vailed in the dust of his sin, Besmeared with the slime Of evil and crime, You would not think it, but down deep within, A door stands ajar, and you may go in. In the bygone hours of the old long ago, Before the winter of vice, with its ice and its snow, Had chilled that faint heart, I once held the key — This object of pity once sat on my knee ; I smoothed the fair head, And kissed the lips, so red ; O, cruel the hand that has taken from me This gem from my heart-life's sad mystery ! A 3I0TMER' S LOVE. O, wide world so mighty, so vast, and so old ! O, wide world so heartless, unfriendly, and cold ! Despise not this wretch, for once he was fair As the jewel which decks the young maiden's hair. O, rescue this one. For he is my son, And God hath forgotten a mother's prayer, As it wandefs world-wide somewhere — soiTiewhere. Sum, the accursed, which evermore brings Its withering woe to peasant and kings. Hath blighted this life, so gifted and rare, And left it a wreck, unsightly and bare. While loving hearts must ache. And sometimes break, Will Heaven not heed importunate prayer ? And fescue the wandering sometime — somewhere ? — Anonymoue. A MOTHER'S LOYB,. James Montgomekti MOTHEE'S love, how sweet the name ! What is a mother's love ? A noble, pure, and tender flame. Enkindled from above. To bless a heart of earthly mould ; The warmest love that can grow cold ; This is a mother's love. 59 THE MOTHER'S OPPORTUHITT. [[^OTHERS, you are the divinely-appointed teachers and guides of your children ; and any attempt to free your- selves from your duty is in direct opposition to the will of God. If you neglect them, the consequences are swift and sure, and how fearful they are, let those broken-hearted mothers tell who have bowed in anguish over their lost sons ; who, neglecting them in childhood, have at last seen them dead to every manly virtue. Let me say to you who stiU have the opportunity to do so, train jour children, whether boys or girls, to usefulness. Give them something to do. And as soon as they can walk, teach them to bring any little thing to you, and as they grow older, let them do all they can to help you. Spend most of your time with your young children. Sleep near them; attend to washing and dressing them; let them eat at the table with father and mother ; read, talk, play, walk with them ; be their companion and guide in all things and at all times. When the father can leave his work to take a little recre- ation, let him take it with the children, making it a special holiday. Don't be in haste to send them to school, but teach them at home. Oral instruction can be given while you are doing your work, and for a while will be of much more benefit than many hours of study. As soon as they want playmates, see that they have those of their own age, who have been well cared for at home, and are truthful. Let them play in or near the house, that you may observe the char- acter of their intercourse. Never send children to school to get rid of the care or trouble of them at home, but when the right time comes, let tliem see that it is wholly for their good that you part 60 THE MOTHER'S OP P ORTUNITY. with tliem. If possible, go often to the sehool-rooin yourself— nothing gives children so much enoouragement. Always allow them to tell you all that has happened to interest or annoy them while absent from home. Kever think anything which affects the happi- ness of your children too small a matter to claim your attention. Use every means in your power to win and retain their confidence. Do not rest satisfied without some account of each day's joys or sorrows. It is a source of great comfort to the innocent child to tell all its troubles to mother, and do you lend a willing oar. For know you, that as soon as they cease to tell you all these things, they have chosen other confidants, and therein lies the danger. O mother! this is the rock on which your son may be wrecked at last. I charge you to set a watch upon it. Be jealous of the first sign that he is not opening all his heart to you. Boys who are thus cared for and trained find more to please and amuse them at home than away. They are thus saved from tempta- tion. But if they are neglected until they arrive at the age when they would wish to go out evenings, there is small hope that any but arbitrary measures will prevent or secure obedience, and then it hardly can be called obedience. It is much more pleasant to apply the " ounce of prevention " than the " pound of cure " in such cases. When boys know that their society is valued highly at home, and that all its pleasures are marred by their absence, they will willingly stay if they can have something to occupy their time. — Anonymous. In great crises it is woman's special lot to soften our misfortune. — Napoleon Bona/parU, 61 MOTHERS, PUT YOUR CHILDREK TO BED. HEE.E may be some mothers who feel it to be a self-denial to leave their parlors, or firesides, or Avork, to put their chil- dren to bed. They think that the nurse could do just as well ; that it is of no consequence who " hears the children say their prayers." Now, setting aside the pleasure of opening the little bed and tucking the darling up, there are really im- portant reasons why the mother should not yield this privilege to any one. In the first place, it is the time of all times when a child is inclined to show its confidence and afi'ection. All its little secrets come out with more truth and less restraints ; its naughtiness through the day can be reproved and talked over with less excitement, and with the tenderness and calmness necessary to make a permanent impression. If the little one has shown a desire to do well and be obedient, its efforts and success can be acknowledged and commended in a manner that need not render it vain or self-satisfied. We must make it a habit to talk to our children, in order to get from them an expression of their feelings. We cannot understand the character of these little beings committed to our care unless we do. And if we do not know what they are, we shall not be able to- govern them wisely, or educate them as their different natures demand. Certainly it would be unwise to excite young children by too much conversation with them just before putting them to bed. Every mother who carefully studies the temperament of her chil- dren will know how to manage them in this respect. But of this all mothers may be assured, that the last words at night are of great 62 THE GOOD-NIGHT KISS. importance, even to the babies of the flock ; the very tones of tho voice they last listened to make an impression upon their sensitive organizations. Mothers, do not think the time and strength wasted, which you spend in reviewing the day with your lit|;le boy or girl ; do not neglect to teach it how to pray, and pray for it in simple and earnest language, which it can understand. Soothe and quiet its little heart after the experiences of the day. It has had its disap- pointments and trials as well as its play and pleasures ; it is ready to throw its arms around your neck, and take its good-night kiss. — Mother's Magazine. THE aOODMHIGHT KISS. IpLWAYS send your little child to bed happy. Whatever cares may trouble your mind, give the dear child a warm good-night kiss as it goes to its pillow. The memory of this, in the stormy years which may be in store for the little one, will be like Bethlehem's star to the bewildered shepherds ; and welling up in the heart will rise the thought : " My father, ray mother — loved me ! " Lips parched with fever will become dewy again at this thrill of useful memories. Kiss your little child before it goes to sleep. — Anonymous. A GOOD word is an easy obligation ; but not to speak ill, requires only our silence, which costs us nothing. — Tillotson. 63 MOTHER AND CHILD, Thomab Boon TOVE thy mother, little one ! Kiss and clasp her neck again ! Hereafter she may have a son Will kiss and clasp her neck in vain. Love thy mother, little one ! Gaze upon her living eyes, And mirror back her love for thee ! Hereafter thou may'st shudder sighs To meet them when they cannot see. Gaze upon her living eyes ! Press her lips the while they glow With love that they have often told ! Hereafter thou may'st press in woe, And kiss them till thine own are cold. Press her lips the while they glow ! Oh, revere her raven hair — Although it be not silver gray ! Too early, death, led on by care, May snatch save one dear lock away. Oh, revere her raven hair ! Pray for her at eve and morn. That Heaven may long the stroke defer ; For Thou may'st live the hour forlorn, When thou wilt ask to die with her. Pray for her at eve and morn I 64 MOTHERS AND THEIR CHILDRBH. ■"HE name of Mother is one of the most sacred of all con- nected with human relations. ISTo name is more sweet or M^ precious, or expressive of more important duties or relations. And when we think of its significance as related to society and humanity we are lost in wonder and amazement. Tliink of the trust committed to a mother, an immortal soul inhabiting a mortal body, to be nursed and trained, and developed and educated for time and eternity, a soul to be rescued from sin and Satan, to be fitted to bless the world, and to be forever blessed in eternity ! Is not this the end for which every child is entrusted to a mother ? And is it not the duty of every mother to acquaint herseli with the high and holy responsibilities and duties devolved upon her, and the blessed results which may through her be made sure? As the little babe is laid in her arms, its first cry awakens the tenderest love and sympathies of her nature. And as its little form and mind develop and unfold, it is to her a new education. She needs a symmetrical character of firmness and gentleness combined, with the deep consciousness that she must train her children not for herself alone, but to be a blessing to themselves, and a blessing to the world. The first duty, next to the care of the body, of which much might be said, and the importance of which can hardly be over-estimated, is to train the child to honor and obey its parents. Obedience is the foundation of moral character. And to teach the child to obey and to yield its will to the will of the parent, is the first step towards yielding its will to the will of God, its great heavenly parent. A 65 MOTSERS AND THEIR CHILDREN. writer has said, " That is not obedience when you want to give a child a reason for your command ; but that is obedience when he yields because you command." But should we not be careful not to give too many rules or commands? As the child develops, will he not see the reasonableness of the commands, and honor the parent for giving such as commend themselves to him as ■ reasonable and right ? Truthfulness, too, in all our teachings and dealings with childien, cannot be too sacredly observed or too carefully guarded. And there is another trait, which if neglected in early life, will most surely mar the character in after years, and show to the world the defect of par- •ental training. I refer to kindness, courtesy, and true politeness in all our intercourse with our children, and with others in their pres- ence. These traits exert an influence that shows perhaps more read- ily and truly in the conduct and bearing of a child than even the others which have been mentioned, for they include the others and flow from them. In order, then, in these as in all things, to lay the foundation of right character in our dear children, we see at once that the only way to do it successfully is to be ourselves what we wish them to be. It is the influence of our acts more than our words which moulds and shapes them. Let us then, as parents, remember that precept without example makes no lasting impression for good ; and en- deavor so to live before and with our children that by example as well as precept we may train them for duty and usefulness ■ and ieaven. In view of these great responsibilities and their far-reaching effects, well may we exclaim, "Who is sufficient for these things?" But we will remember that He who has laid upon us these duties has also said, " My grace is sufficient for thee," " Call upon me and I will supply all your need." — Christian Secretary. 66 OUR MOTHER. ^TJE mother's lost her youthfulness. Her locks are turning gray, And wrinkles take the place of smiles^' She's fading every day. We gaze at her in sorrow now, For though we've ne'er been told We can but feel the weary truth — Our mother's growing old. Our mother's lost her youthfulness, Her eyes grow dim with tears, Yet still within her heart there shines Some light of other years ; ^or oft she'll speak in merry tones, Smile as in youth she smiled, As o'er her heart some memory steals Of when she was a child. Our mother's lost her youthfulness, The light step has grown slow, The graceful form has learned to stoop, The bright cheek lost its glow. Her weary hands have grown so thin, Her dear hand trembles now ; '" Passing away," in sad, deep lines, Is traced upon her brow. 67 O UR MO THE K. Our mother's lost her youthfulness, Her smiles are just as kind, Her tones to us are soft as erst, — Where should we dearer find ? But as we note the trembling tongue, And mark the stooping form, A sad voice whispers to our heart.*, — " Ye cannot keep her long." Our mother's lost her youthfulness, We see it every day, And feel more drearily the truth, She soon must pass away. Ah ! even now the " boatman pale " We fear is hovering nigh ; Waiting with white sails all unfurled, He will not heed our cry. But gently bear the wearied form Into the phantom bark, She will not fear — Cheist went before, The way will not be dark : And safe beyond the troubled stream, Her tired heart's strife o'er. Our angel mother, glorified, Will grow old nevermore. — Rural New Yorker. PoE the noblest man that lives there still remains a conflict,. — James A. Garfield. 68 PAHEHTAL AUTHOHITY. fHE very height of human wickedness is described in the Holy Book as " lawlessness." Subjection to the holy, just, and good law of the Most High God is the essential condi tion of well-being here, and the essential element of glory here- I after. In keeping with this, human beings come into this world in a state of dependence and subjection^ and for about one-half of the average term of human life that is their proper and natural state. I cannot doubt that the great idea of the long pupilage of man is just that the principle and habit of obedience, of subinission to authority, may be wrought into his inmost nature — that, taught to obey an earthly parent, even from infancy, he may pass from sub- jection to the earthly father to subjection to the heavenly one. Reverent obedience of the child to parents is the preparation for reverent obedience of the man to Ood. The one is the stepping- stone to the other. It is asked in the Epistle of John, "If a man love not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen ? " In the same spirit and with at least equal emphasis it may be asked, " If a child honor not the father whom he hath seen, how shall he honor his Father whom he hath not seen ? " There is rebellion against God in our inmost nature. Well, train up a child in willfulness and insubordination, and what must you expect as the result of nature's tendencies and such a training commingled. Law is everywhere here. There is law in the Bible. There is law in our souls. There are laws written with a pen of iron upon 69 PARENTAL AUTHORITT. our bodily frames. There are laws upon earth and sky — and to send forth from your home a lawless creature, is to send forth a blind man to walk among pitfalls and precipices, to offer up an immortal nature to the god of misrule. In a religious point of view it seems to me just of the last importance that the parent should exercise over his children a sovereign authority. There must be no permitted resistance to his will. Obedience must be the primary law of the family. Does this have a sound of harshness ? But it is the Bible way ! The con- fidence in regard to Abraham was that he would command his children after him. Children are bidden by the apostle to obey their parents. It is the essential requisite of a ruler in God's house that he should be able to rule in his own house, having his children in suhjection. And authority is not tyranny. As the authority of God is not tyranny, neither is the authority of a parent, rightly used. If it is rightly used, it will be used under the feeling of tender love and affectionate interest. The children themselves will more and more come to feel that; and feeling it, to render a willing and cheerful obedience to it. We parents should rule in love — in Christian love — but we should eule. Parental authority, like all authority, needs a wise hand to wield it. There is needed especially great wisdom in the exercise of it, when the boy is passing into the man. At that stage of human life when you have the feeling of independence beginning to come — when you have so often the passions of manhood to deal with with- out manhood's checks and sense — no one can tell what the blessing is of having, say, a father to whom a son has been in the habit of look- ing with submissive reverence, and who has the wisdom to use his influence aright. But altogether, we may depend on it that there is nothing more fuinous than disobedience allowed in our little ones. I may even 70 COURTESIES TO PARENTS. venture to say, that it is great cruelty and great sin in us to permit it, out of, it may be, an indolent easiness of mind, or an unwise soft- ness of disposition. The parent is to rule in home, the world of childhood, as the Great Parent rules in the world, the home of man- hood. — Mother's Treasury. COURTESIES TO PAHEKTS. "^^# |; ARENTS lean upon their children, and especially their sons,. fliiBsamc much earlier than either of them imagine. Their love is a Jl®^ constant inspiration, a perennial fountain of delight, from [ which other lips may quaff, and he comforted thereby. It ^ may be that the mother has been left a widow, depending on her only son for support. He gives her a comfortable home, sees that she is well clad, and allows no debts to accumulate, and that is all. It is considerable, more even than many sons do, but there is a lack. He seldom thinks it worth while to give her a caress ;. he has forgotten all those affectionate ways that kept the wrinkles, from her face, and make her look so much younger than her years ; he is ready to put his hand in his pocket to gratify her slightest request,^ but to give of the abundance of his heart is another thing entirely. He loves his mother ? Of course he does ! Are there not proof& enough of his filial regard ? Is he not continually making sacrifices for her benefit ? What more could any reasonable woman ask ? Ah, but it is the mother heart that craves an occasional kiss, the support of your youthful . arm, the little attentions and kindly cour- tesies of life, that smooth down so many of its asperities, and make the journey less wearisome. Material aid is good so far as it goes, but it has not that sustaining power which the loving, sympathetic 71 COURTESIES TO PARENTS. beart bestows upon its object. You think she has out-grown these weaknesses and follies, and is content with the crust that is left , but you are mistaken. Every little offer of attention, — your escort to church or concert, or for a quiet walk, brings back the youth of her heart ; her cheeks glow, and her eyes sparkle with pleasure, and •oh ! how proud she is of her son ! Even the father, occupied and absorbed as he may be, is not -wholly indifferent to these filial expressions of devoted love. He may pretend to care very little for them, but having faith in their sincerity, it would give him serious pain were they entirely withheld. Fathers need their sons quite as much as the sons need the fathers, but in how many deplorable instances do they fail to find in them a a staff for their declining years ! My son, are you a sweetener of life 'i You may disappoint the ambition of your parents ; may be unable to distinguish yourself as they fondly hoped ; may find your intellectual strength inadequate to your own desires, but let none of these things move you from a determination to be a son of whose moral character they need never be ashamed. Begin early to cultivate a habit of thoughtfulness and consideration for others, especially for those w^hom you are com- manded to honor. Can you begrudge a few extra steps for the mother who never stopped to number those you demanded during your helpless infancy ? Have you the heart to slight her requests, or treat her remarks with indifference, when you cannot begin to meas- ure the patient devotion with which she bore with your peculiarities 'i Anticipate her wants, invite her confidence, be prompt to offer assist- ance, express your affections as heartily as you did when a child, that the mother may never grieve in secret for the son she has lost. —S. 8. Times. n THE MOfHER'S CHARGE. Mks. L. H. Sigoceney. pND say to mothers what a holy charge I Is theirs ; with what a kingly power their love Might rule the fountains of the new-born mind Warn them to wake at early dawn and sow Good seed, before the world has sown its tares. AUTHORITY OF PAREHTS. Horace Bttshnbll, D.D. i^T is a great mistake to suppose that what will make a child stare or tremble impresses more authority. The violent emphasis, the hard, stormy voice, the menacing air, only weaken authority. Is it not well understood, that a bawling and violent teamster has no real government of his team ? Is it nor practically seen that a skillful commander of one of those huge floating cities, moved by steam on our American waters, manages and works every motion by the waving of the hand, or by signs that pass in silence, issuing no order at all, save in the gentlest undertone of voice ? So when there is, or is to be, a real . order in the house, it will come of no hard and boisterous, or fretful and termagant way of commanding. Gentleness will speak the word of firmness, and firmness will be clothed in that of true gentleness. 73 THE EYIia MOTHER. J. A. Dacus. AY the gem upon my bosom, Let me feel the sweet, warm breathj, For a strange chill o'er me passes, And I know that it is death. I would gaze upon the treasure Scarcely given ere I go ; Feel her rosy, dimpled fingers "Wander o'er my cheek of snow. I am passing through the waters, But a blessed sbore appears ; Kneel beside me, husband dearest, Let me kiss away thy tears. Wrestle with thy grief, my husband. Strive from midnight until day, It may leave an angel's blessing "When it vanisheth away. Lay the gem upon my bosom, 'Tis not long she can be there ; See ! how to my heart sbe nestles, 'Tis the pearl I love to wear. If, in after years, beside thee Sits another in my chair, Though her voice be sweeter music. And her face than mine more fair ; If a cherub calls thee " father ! " Far more beautiful than this ; THE DYING MOTHER. Love thy first-born, O my husband ! Turn not from the motherless. Tell her sometimes of her mother — You can call her by my name ! Shield her from th% winds of sorrow, If she errs, O gently blame ! Lead her sometimes where I'm sleeping I will answer if she calls, And my breath shall stir her ringlets, "When my voice in blessing falls ; Her soft black eye will brighten, And wonder whence it came ; In her heart, when years pass o'er her,. She wiU find her mother's name. It is said that every mortal Walks between two angels here, One records the ill, but blots it If before the midnight drear Man repenteth — if uncancelled. Then he seals it for the skies ; And her right hand angel weepeth, Bowing low with veiled eyes. I will be her right hand angel, Sealing up the good for heaven, Striving that the midnight watches Find no misdeed unforgiven. You will not forget me, husband, When I'm sleeping 'neath the B(,d , O, love the jewel given us As I loved thee — next to God ! 75 RBSP0H2IBILITY OF PARENTS, T. F. W. g . ]HE home is the fountain of civilization. Americans are a home-making people. Our laws are made in the home. There are trained the voters who shape the course of our country. The things said there give bias to character far more than do sermons and lectures, newspapers and books. No other audiences are so susceptible and receptive as those gathered about the table and the fireside. Js o other teachers have the acknowl- edged divine right to instruct that is granted without challenge to parents. The fountain of our national life is under their hand. 'They can make it send forth waters bitter or sweet, for the death or the healing of the people. Intemperance strikes first and most fatally at the home. The evils most dangerous to social oi'der depend upon dram-drinking for their existence. This too is the scene of its most cruel and beastly devilisms. Here it smites, and stabs, and kills. The home must be guarded against its outrages, or the country will be ruined. The best work against intemperance must be done in this center and seat of power. Parents have it in their power to train their children to abhor that which is evil and cleave to that which is good ; and they owe them this duty. They bring their children into existence. They hold them under their hand till the young life has taken a bias that will last through eternity. Usually the tiny, tilting craft has its prow turned toward heaven or hell before the parent's hand lets go the helm. This ought to startle careless people out of their indifference. It ought to drive them to lives of piety ; for how can they teach that which they have not learned '< How can they impart what they do not possess ? 76 VISIT YOUR PARENTS. Parents must teach by example. Precept has no authority unless backed by example. For the children's sake all liquors ought to be banished from the home. The story is most pitiful, and quite too common to need repetition : " I learned to drink at my father's table. My mother's hand first passed me the cup that is working my damnation." In every home there oiight to be the right reading on this, as on every by-subject. "We are what we read — or we read what we are — as you will. One thing is certain ; if we really care much about this horrible traffic, we will see to it that our children have books and papers that will keep them in sympathy with the efforts made for its prohibition. By personal example, by look, by reading, and by prayer, we may make an atmosphere that shall set and keep our households right on this great questioii. Ouly thus can we hope to save our- selves, and those whom God has given to be with us, from tlie tide that sweeps to destruction so many of the noblest and best. YI2IT YOUR PARENTS, 'F you live in the same place, let your steps be — if possible daily — a familiar one in the old home ; if you are miles away — yea, many miles away — ^make it your business to go to your parentsi In this matter do not regard time or expense ; the one is well spent, and the other will be, even a hundred-fold, repaid. When some day the word reaches you, flashed over the telegraph, that your mother is gone, you will not think them much, those hours of travel which at last bore you to the loved one's side. — Anonymous. 77 A WOM WITH PARENTS ABOUT THEIR CHILEREH. HAT pride is felt by parents in the honest success of their boys. How they like to hear of his good and manly be- tp havior in school, in the counting-house, or on deck, where lives are to be saved or liberty preserved ! That parent has lived to some purpose who has his children rooted and groimded in sound principles. Equipping well the son or daughter for the voyage of life, is a duty the neglect of which is sure to entail sorrow and shame. When a minister's boy goes wrong, the whole world is informed of the fact with apparent glee, by those who have no taste for things religious. It is clearly expected, then, that the minister's family, like himself, should be living epistles, known and read of all men. Then again, when the son or daughter of a religious family mingles freely with worldlings, in the ball-room and at the theatre, the finger of reproach is justly pointed at Christ's fol- lowers, and the majority are held responsible for the acts or neglects of a few. Religion and science unite in positive language, that the defects of the parents are discoverable in the children. The only cure for this disorder — whatever it may be — is the grace of God, the love and friendship of Jesus. The parent, then — " father or mother — who is conscious of dangerous personal proclivities, occupies vantage ground a'^ove every other teacher, however quali- fied, in dealing with his child. He knows the besetting sin, and with heaven's aid, can overcome it. Those parents who leave the education of their children almost altogether to the sacred or secular teacher, have intrusted the most important business of life to hands 78 WOJtD WITS PARENTS ABOUT THEIR CHILDREN. not fully competent to discharge it. The good housewife bestows much care upon the curtains, the carpets, the pictures, and the statu- ary within the home ; while the sons and daughters, with bad books, impure associates, and misleading plays, are gradually drifting, if not already there, on to dangerous ground. It is proper to remind these drowsy parents that stains on pictures and dirt on curtains are minor evils, unjustifiable as they are, compared with the unmanly act of the boy or the frivolous amusements of the daughter. We are safe in assuming that the parents of Joseph, Samuel, and Timothy, were of superior stock. Grace makes magnificent pictures when it lodges in good, natural soil, in which there are, as we are taught, various degrees. Parents who expect noble children must themselves lead noble lives. In time, and the sooner the better, we will attach more value to the law of heredity. We will then try to do much for posterity by bequeathing blood and habits that will help and not hinder the race. Mce families ! What a comfort and ornament they are to society ! There are pleasant homes with the poets and others with orators, but the greatest joy is evening at home with cultured people who know much of Divine things, whose lives are attuned to words that cheer and deeds that ennoble. Tou are sure to find in such homes grandmotherly and motherly influence modeled after that which made Timothy an example for all the ages. We are not doing enough in the right direction for our children. If we would have more fragrance and fruit we must prune and pray, beginning within and working outward. — Anonymous. The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world. — John Gray. 79 THE MOTHER'S SORROW. T^S the waters roll in on the shore with incessant throbs, night 1^ and day, and always, — not alone when storms prevail, but in calms as well, — so it is with a mother's heart bereaved of her children. There is no grief like unto it, — Rachael weeping for her children, and refusing to be comforted, be- cause they are not ! With what long patience, what burden and suffering, does the mother wait until the child of her hope is placed in her arms and under the sight of her eyes ! She remember- eth no more the anguish, for joy that a man is born into the world. Who can read, or, if he saw, could utter the thoughts of a mother during all the days and nights in which she broods the helpless thing ? Every true mother takes home the full meaning of the angel's word : that holy thing which shall be bom of thee shall be called the Son of God. The mother does not even whisper what she thinks, and the whole air is full of gentle pictures, every one on the background of the blue heavens. The child gi'ows, — grows in favor of God and man ; and every admiring look cast upon it, even by a stranger, sends light and glad- ness to the mother's heart. Wonderful child ! The sun is brighter for it ! The whole earth is blessed by its presence ! Sorrows, pains, weariness, self-denials, for its sake, are eagerly sought and delighted in. But the days come when the little feet are weary; when the night brings no rest ; when the cheek is scarlet, the eye changed, and the smile no longer knows how to shine. All day, all night, it is the 80 THE MOTHER' S SORROW. mother's watch. Her very sleep is but a vailed waking. Joy ; the child is coming back to health ! Woe ; it is drifting out again, away from consciousness and pain It is far, far out toward — toward dark- ness. It disappears ! The mother's heart was like a heaven while it lived ; now it has ascended to God's heaven, and the mother's heart is as the gloom of midnight. Wild words of self-reproach at length break out, as when a frozen torrent is set loose by spring days. She that has lavished her life-force upon the child turns upon herself with fierce charges of carelessness, of thoughtlessness. She sees a hundred ways in which the child would have lived but for her! All love is turned into self-crimination. Tears come at length to quench the fire of purgatory. But grief takes new shapes every hour, till the nerve has lost its sensibility, and then she coldly hates her unnatural and inhuman heart that will not feel. A child dying, dies but once ; but the mother dies a hundred times. When the sharpness is' over, and the dullness of an overspent brain is past, and she must take up the shuttle again, and weave the web of daily life, pity her not that she must work, must join again the discordant voices, and be forced to duties irksome and hateful. These all are kindly medicines. A new thought is slowly preparing. It is that immovable constancy and strength which sorrow gives when it has wrought the Divine intent. — Methodist. 'OREOWS are often like clouds, which, though black when they are passing over us, when they are past become as if they were the garments of God, thrown off in purple and gold along the sky. — H. W. JBeeoher. 81 THE OLD ARM CHAIR. Eliza Cook. LOYE it — I love it, and who shall dare To chide me for loving that old arm chair ? I've treasured it long as a sainted prize — I've bedewed it with tears, and embalmed it with sighs 'Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart, Not a tie will break, nor a link will start. Would you learn the spell ? a mother sat there ; And a sacred thing is that old arm chair. ''to In childhood's hour I lingered near The hallowed seat with listening ear ; And gentle words that mother would give, To fit me to die and teach me to live. She told me shame would never betide, With truth for my creed, and God for my guide; She taught me to lisp my earliest prayer, As I knelt beside that old arm chair. I sat and watched her many a day. When her eyes grew dim and her locks were gray, And I almost worshipped her when she smiled And turned from her Bible to bless her child. Years rolled on, but the last one sped— My idol was shattered — my earth star fled : I learnt how much the heart can bear, When I saw her die in that old arm chair. 82 MABT,- TSE MOTBEB OF JESUS. 'Tis past ! 'tis past ! but I gaze on it now With quivering breath and throbbing brow : ''Twas there she nursed me — 'twas there she died, And memory flowed with lava tide — ;Say it is folly, and deem me weak, "While the scalding tears run down my cheek. But -I love it — I love it, and cannot tear My soul from my mother's old arm chair. MARY, THE MOTHER OF JESUS. N. p. Willis. jT God's right hand sits one who was a child, Born as the humblest, and who here abode Till of our sorrow he had suffered ^1. They who now weep, remember that he wept. The tempted, the despised, the sorrowing, feel That JesuSj too, drank of these cups of woe. And oh, if oui joys be tasted less, — If all but one passed from his lips away — Th^t one, — a mother's love — by his partaking, Js liJce a thread of hea/oen spun through our life. And we in the untiring watch, the tears, The tenderness and fond trust of a mother, May feel a heavenly closeness unto God — For such, all human in its blest excess, Was Mary's love for Jesus. 83 MOTHER'S YACAHf CHAIR, T. Db Witt Talmaqe. 1^ GO a little farther on in your house, and I find the mother's W- chair. It is very apt to be a rocking-chair. She had so many cares and troubles to soothe, that it must have rockers. I remember it well. It was an old chair, and the rockers were almost worn out, for I was the youngest, and the chair had rocked the whole family. It made a creaking noise as it moved, but there was music in the sound. It was just high enough to allow us- children to put our heads into her lap. That was the bank where we deposited all our hurts and worries. Oh, what a chair that was ! It was different from the father's chair — it was entirely different. You ask me how ? I cannot tell, but we all felt it was different. Per- haps there was about this chair more gentleness, more tenderness^ more grief when we had done wrong. When we were wayward^ father scolded, but mother cried. It was a very wakeful chair. In the sick day of children, other chairs could not keep awake; that chair always kept awake — kept easily awake. That chair knew all the old lullabies, and all those worldless songs which mothers sing tO' their sick children — songs in which all pity and compassion and^ sympathetic influences are combined. That old chair has stoppeu. rocking for a good many years. It may be set up in the loft or the: garret, but it holds a queenly power yet. When at midnight you went into that grog-shop to get the intoxicating draught, did you not hear a voice that said, "My son, why go in there?" and a louder than the boisterous encore of the theatre, a voice saying, "My son^ 84 MOTJxSli' S IA.UANT CHAIR. what ao you here ? " And when you went into the house of sin, a voice saying, " What would your mother do if she knew you were here ? " and you were provoked at yourself, and you charged yourself with superstition and fanaticism, and your head got hot with your own thoughts, and you went home and you went to bed, and no sooner had you touched the bed than a voice said, " What a prayer- less pillow ! " Man ! what is the matter ? This ! You are too near your mother's rocking-chair. " Oh, pshaw ! " j'ou say, " there's noth- ing in that. I'm five hundred miles off from where I was horn — I'm •three thousand miles off from the Scotch kirk whose bell was the first music I ever heard." I cannot help that. You are too near your mother's rocking-chair. " Oh ! " you say, " there can't be anything in that ; that chair has been vacant a great while." I cannot help that. It is all the mightier for that ; it is omnipotent, that vacant mother's chair. It whispers. It speaks. It weeps. It carols. It mourns. It prays. It warns. It thunders. A young man went off and broke his mother's heart, and while he was away from home his mother died, and the telegraph brought the son, and he came into the room where she lay, and looked upon her face, and cried out, " O mother, mother, what your life could not do your death shall effect. This moment I give my heart to God." And he kept his promise. Another victory for the vacant chair. With reference to your another, the words of my text were fulfilled : " Thou shalt be missed (because thy seat will be empty." WONDEOUS power ! how little understood ! -j^s^ Entrusted to the mother's mind alone, To fashion genius, form the soul for good. — Mrs. Sarah J. Hale. 85 RESPECT FOR MOTHERS. -jE^r FEW days ago we heard a stripling of sixteen designate the mother who bore him as the old woman. By coarse hus- bands we have heard wives so called occasionally, though in the latter case the phrase is more often used endearingly. At all times, as commonly spoken, it jars upon the ears and shocks the sense. An old woman should be an object of rever- ence above and beyond almost all other phases of humanity. Her very age should be her surest passport to courteous consideration. The aged mother of a grown-up family needs no other certificate of worth. She is a monument of excellence, approved and war- ranted. She has fought faithfully "the good fight" and come off conqueror. Upon her venerable face she bears the marks of the conflict in all its furrowed lines. The most grievous of the ills of life have been hers ; trials untold, and known only to God and her- self, she has borne incessantly, and now, in her old age, her duty done, patiently awaiting her appointed time, she stands more beauti- ful than ever in her youth, more honorable and deserving than he who has slain his thousands, or stood triumphant upon the proudest field of victory. Young man, speak kindly to your mother, and ever courteously, tenderly of her. But a little time, and ye shall see her no more for- ever. Her eye is dim, her form bent, and her shadow falls grave- ward. Others may loje you when she has passed away — a kind- hearted sister, perhaps, or she whom of all the world you choose for a partner — she may love you warmly, passionately; children may love you fondly, but never again, never, while time is yours, shall tlie love of woman be to you as that of your old, trembling mother has been. — Anonymoiis. «6 i■^!^!!.7^t TO MY MOTHER. Henky Kieke White. ^^LND canst thou, mother, for a moment think 4 That we, thy children, when old age shall shed Its blanching honors on thy weary head, Could from our best of duties ever shrink ? Sooner the sun from his high sphere should sink,, Than we, ungrateful, leave thee in that day. To pine in solitude thy life away, Or shun thee, tottering on the grave's cold brink. Banish the thought ! — where'er our steps may roam,. O'er smiling plains, or wastes without a tree. Still will fond memory point our hearts to thee,. And paint the pleasures of thy peaceful home ; While duty bids us all thy griefs assuage, And smooth the pillow of thy sinking age. MY MOTHER. George P Moebis, jt^^ Y mother, at that holy name c:J=gg9; Within my bosom there's a gush Of feeling which no time can tame, A feeling which, for years of famCj I would not, could not crush. 87 TRIBUTE TO A MOTHER, Lord Macaiila.y. ^HILDEEN, look in those eyes, listen to that dear voice, notice the feeling of even a single touch that is bestowed upon you by that gentle hand. Make much of it while m yet you have that most precious of all good gifts, a loving mother. Kead the unfathomable love of those eyes ; the kind anxiety of that tone and look, however slight your pain. In after-life you may have friends, fond, dear, kind friends ; but never will you have again the inexpressible love and gentleness lavished upon you which none but a mother bestows. Often do I sigh in my struggles with the hard, uncaring world, for the sweet, deep security I felt when, of an evening, nestling in her bosom, I listened to some quiet tale, suitable to my age, read in her tender and untiring voice. Never can I forget her sweet glances cast upon me when I appeared asleep ; never her kiss of peace at night. Years have passed away since we laid her beside my father in the old churchyard ; yet still her voice whispers from the grave, and her eye watches over me, as [ visit spots long since hallowed to the memoiy of my mother. THE MOTHER'S MISSIOK. JHE mother in her office holds the key Of the soul ; and she it is who stamps the coin Of character, and makes the being who would be a savage Hut for her gentle care, a Christian man. — A nonymous. 80 Waiting at Eventide. WORKIHG AKD WAITIHG* IJ.-N this busy world of crowding cares and multiplied labor, > is there not danger, amid the general din, of forgetting, or partially ignoring, those aged ones tc whom the evening of life is fast approaching ? They have borne the noontide toil and heat, and now, at eventide, with tired, folded hands, they are waiting for the summons which shall open unto them a morning of eternal day. But how often in quiet reverie, with dim eyes gazing out over the hills, does the heart of the watcher go back to the hours of her own youthful days when she, too, joined the busy workers and took no note of time ! The bright, girlish days ! How golden fair they gleam over the hills of memory ! Then there come visions of days and nights of happy toil for her babes — sweet recollections of baby kisses and dimpled fingers. Where are the children now ? Some gone into the silent land, others toil- ing in her place in the busy world. Let us come nearer to those bowed with years and worn with life's struggle — the grandmothers left alone in their silent corners ; let us remember that their hearts are young yet, and that they long for a bit of merriment, the sound of youthful voices speaking tender, loving words to them, thrilling their hearts like chords of music. Gather arouiid the old arm-chairs, speak cheerily to the waiting ones ; tell them that they are still life's workers and the world is better for their presence. So you will make the gray twilight brighten into a sunset of light and hope, until the angels take their waiting spirits into a realm of eternal peace and rest. — Anonymous. F 91 MY M0THER*2 HAHD2. y il UCH beautiful, beautiful hands ! 1^ They're neither white nor small, llv*-? And you, I know, would scarcely think That they were fair at all. I've looked on hands whose form and hue A sculptor's dream might be, Yet are these aged, wrinkled hands, More beautiful to me. Such beautiful, beautiful hands ! Though heart were weary and sad. These patient hands kept toiling on That children might be glad. I almost weep, as looking back To childhood's distant day, I think how these hands rested not When mine were at their play. Such beautiful, beautiful hands ! They're growing feeble now ; For time and pain have left their work On hand, and heart, and brow. Alas ! alas ! the wearing time. And the sad, sad day to me, When 'neath the daisies, out of sight, These hands will folded be. But O, beyond this shadowy damp, Where all is bright and fair, 92 MY MOTHER' S PICTURE. I know full well these dear old hands Will palms of victory bear ; Where crystal streams, thro' endless years, Flow over golden sands, And where the old grow young again, I'll clasp my mother's hands. — Anonymous. MY MOTHER'S PICTURE. Wm. Cowpbr. "W THAT those lips had language ! Life has pass'd With me but roughly since I heard thee last. Those lips are thine, — thy own sweet smile I see, The same that oft in childhood solac'd me ; Yoice only fails, else how distinct they say, " Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away ! " The meek intelligence of those dear eyes, (Bless'd be the art that can immortalize. The art that baffles Time's tyrannic claim To quench it,) here shines on me still the same. Faithful remembrancer of one so dear, welcome guest, though unexpected here ! Who bid'st ine honor with an ai'tless song, Affectionate, a mother lost so long. 1 will obey, not willingly alone. But gladly, as the pcecept were her own ; And, while that face renews my filial grief, Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief. Shall steep me in Elysian reverie, A momentary dream, that thou art she. 93 ^ THB MOTHER AS TEACHER. A. W. K. HE mother is the luminary that shines and reigns alone in the early child-life ; as years advance, the scepter is divided and the teacher shares the sway. We often think, as we meet the earnest gaze of the interested pupil, and watch the mind working and 'the young thought shaping to the will, " Why is it that mothers so willingly yield to others this broad sphere of their domain, and are content to foster the physical and external life of their cliildren, leaving the intel- lectual and spiritual to grow without their aid ? " One would suppose that .capable mothers would jealously keep to themselves the high privilege of training the mind, and so bind their children to themselves by ties which are stronger than the mere physical tie can be. We who have grown to realize to whom we are debtors, are thrilled with delight as we think of those who have been the parents of our intellectual life — who seem nearer to us than our familiar friends, though we never have and never may look upon their living faces, — Bryant, Longfellow, Euskin, Emerson and Carlyle, and many another. How they have covered our lives with a rich broidei-y of beautiful and inspiring thought, so that to live in the same world, and at the same time, seems a benison of blessing. So may the mother weave into the life of her children thoughts and feelings, rich, beautiful, grand and noble, which will make all after-life brighter and better. Many a good mother may think she has no time for this mind 94 HOW MA Mir A FLAYS. and soul culture, but we find no lack of robes and ruffles, and except in cases where the daily bread of the family must be earned by daily work, away from home, as is done by many a weary mother, we must feel that there is ijot one who cannot command one half hour each morning, when the mind is fresh and vigorous, to collect her children around her, and minister for a little to their higher wants. If each mother, according to her several ability, seeks to develop the higher and better faculties of her children, the reward will be as great as the aim is noble. HOW MAMMA PLAYS. Ella Faeman. ^IIST the sweetest thing that the children do Is to play with mamma, a-playing too; And " Baby is lost," they think is the best, Eor mamma plays that with a merry zest. " My baby's lost ! " up and down mamma goes, A-peering about and following her nose ; Inside the papers, and under the books, And all in between the covers she looks, "Baby! Baby!" calling. But though in her way is papa's tall hat, She never once thinks to look under that. She listens, she stops, she hears the wee laugh, And around she flies, the faster by half, " Why, where can he be ? " and she opens the clock, She tumbles her basket, she shakes papa's sock, "Baby! Baby!" calHng. 95 sow MAMMA PLAYS. While the children all smile at papa's tall hat, Though none of them go and look under that. A sweet coo calls. Mamma darts everywhere, She feels in her pockets to see if he's there, In every vase on the mantel shelf, She searches sharp for the little elf, "Baby! Baby!" calling. Another coo comes from papa's tall hat, Yet none of them stir an inch toward that. Somewhere he certainly must be, she knows, So up to the China cupboard she goes ; The covers she lifts from the sugar bowls, The sweet, \vhite lumps she rattles and rolls, " Baby ! Baby ! " calling. But though there's a stir near papa's tall hat, They will not so much as look toward that. She moves the dishes, but baby is not I"i the cream-pitcher nor in the tea-pot; And she wrings her hands and stamps on the floor. She shakes the rtigs, and she opens the door, " Baby ! Baby ! " calling. They stand with their backs to papa's tall hat. Though the sweetest murmurs come from that. The cliildren join in the funny distress. Till nianuTia, all sudden, with swift caress, Makes a pounce right down on the old, tall black hat And bi'ings out the baby from under that, "Baby! Baby!" calling. And this is the end of the little play, The children would like to try every day. 96 MOTHER'S EMPIRE. Ebv. H. H. Bikkins. PIE queen that sits upon the throne of home, crowned and sceptered as none other ever can be, is — mother. Her "^W^' enthronement is complete, her reign unrivalled, and the moral issues of her empire are eternal. " Her children arise I up, and call her blessed." Rebellious, at times, as the subjects of her government may- be, she rules them with marvelous patience, winning tenderness and undying love. She so presents and exemplifies divine truth, that it reproduces itself in the happiest development of childhood — charao- ter and life. Her memory is sacred while she lives, and becomes a perpetual inspiration, even when the bright flowers bloom above her sleeping dust. She is an incarnation of goodness to the child, and hence her immense power. Scotland, with her well-known reverence for motherhood, insists that " An ounce of mother is worth more than a pound of clergy." Napoleon cherished a high conception of a mother's power, and believed that the mothers of the land could shape the destinies of his beloved France. Hence he said in his sententious, laconic style: " The great need of France is mothers." Tlie ancient orator bestowed a flattering compliment upon the homes of Roman mothers wlien he said, "The empire is at the fire- side." Who can think of the influence that a mother wields in the home, and not be impressed with its far-reaching results ! What revolutions would take place in our families and communities if that 97 MO THER' S EMPIRE. strange, magnetic power were fully consecrated to the welfare of the child and the glory of God. Mohammed expressed a great truth when he said that " Paradise is at the feet of mothers. " There is one vision that never fades from the soul, and that is the vision of mother and of home. No man in all his weary wander ings ever goes out beyond the overshadowing arch of home. Let him stand on the surf-beaten coast of the Atlantic, or roam ever western wilds, and every dash of the wave and murmur of the breeze will whisper, home, sweet home. Set him down amid the glaciers of the North, and even there thoughts of home, too warm to be chilled by the eternal frosts, will float in upon him. Let him rove through the green, waving groves, and over the sunny slopes of the South, and in the smile of the soft skies, and in the kiss of the balmy breeze, home will live again. John Randolph was once heard to say that only one thing saved him from atheism, and that was the tender remembrance of the hour when a devout mother, kneeling by his side, took his little hand in hers, and taught him to say " Our Father, who art in Heaven." God hasten the time when our families, everywhere, shall catch the cry of childhood as it swells up over all the land, like the voice of God's own sweet evangel, calling the Jiome — the home to enter the children's temple, and crowd its altars with the best ofierings of sympathy and service. Fathers, mothers, let the home go with your children to Jesus, — let it go with them at every step, to cheer them in every struggle, until from the very crest of the cold wave that bears them from you forever, they shout back their joy over a home on earth, that helped them rise to a home in Heaven. 98 FOR HIS MOTHER'S SAKE, Ijpll^P YOUNG man, who had left his home, ruddy and vigorous, [ was seized with the yellow fever in New Orleans ; and, though nursed with devoted care by friendly strangers, he '■jioT died. When the coffin was being closed, " Stop," said an aged 1 woman who was present, " Let me kiss him for his mother!" " Let me kiss him for his motherl Ere we lay him with the dead, Far away from home, another Sure may kiss him in her stead. How that mother's lips would kiss him Till her heart should nearly break ! How in, days to come she'll miss him ! Let me kiss him for her sake. *' Let me kiss him for his mother ! Let me kiss the wandering boy ; It may be there is no other Left behind to give her joy. When the news of woe, the morrow, Burns the bosom like a coal. She may 'feel this kiss of sorrow Fall as balm upon her soul. *' Let me kiss him for his mother ! Heroes, ye, who by his side, Waited on him as a brother Till the Northern stranger died,— 99 woman's power. Heeding not the foul infection, Breathing in the fever-breath, — Let me, of my own election, Give the mother's kiss in death, " Let me kiss him for his mother ? " Loving thought and loving deed ! Seek nor fear nor sigh to smother. Gentle matrons, while ye read. Thank the ,God who made ye human, Gave ye pitying tears to shed ; Honor ye the Christian woman Bending o'er another's dead. — Anonymous. jlLJAIL, woman ! JIail, thou faithful wife and mother, (cks The latest, choicest part of tieaven's great plan ! None fills thy peerless place at home ; no other Helpmeet is found for laboring, suffering man. — Bev. Mark Trafton, ) S unto the bow the cord is, So unto the man is woman : Though she bends him, she obeys him ; Though she draws him, yet she follows ; Useless each without the other. — H. W. LongfeClom^ That you may be loved, be amiable. — Ovid. 100 THE OLE FOLKS. ip F you would make the aged happy, lead them to feel that there is still a place for them where they can be useful. When you see their powers failing, do not notice it. It is enough for them to feel it, without a reminder. Do not humiliate them by doing things after them. Accept their offered services, and do not let them see yoib taking off the dust their poor eye-sight has left undisturbed, or wiping up the liquid their trembling hands have spilled ; rather let the dust remain, and the liquid stain the carpet, than rob them of their self-respect by see- ing you cover their deficiencies. You may give them the best room in your house, you may garnish it with pictures and flowers, you may yield them the best seat in your church-pew, the easiest chair in your parlor, the highest seat of honor at your table ; but if you lead, or leave, them to feel that they h^ve passed their usefulness, you plant a thorn in their bosom that will rankle there while life lasts. If they are capable of doing nothing but preparing your kindlings, or darning your stockings, indulge them in those things, but never let them feel that it is because they can do nothing else ; rather that they do this so well. Do not ignore their taste and judgment. It may be that in their early days, and in the circle where they moved, they were as much sought and honored as you are now ; and until you arrive at that place, you can ill imagine your feelings should you be considered entirely void of these qualities, be regarded as essential to no one, and your opinions be unsought, or discarded if given. They may 101 THE OLD FOLKS. have been active and successful in the training of children and youth in the way they should go ; and will they not feel it keenly, if no attempt is made to draw from this ricli experience ? Indulge them as far as possible in their old habits. The various forms of society in which they were educated may be as dear to them as yours are now to you ; and can they see them slighted or disowned without a pang? If they relish their meals better by turning their tea into the saucer, having their butter on the same plate with their food, or eating with both knife and fork, do not in word or deed imply to them that the customs of their days are obnoxious in good society ; and that they are stepping down from respectability as they descend the hill-side of life. Always bear in mind that the customs of which you are now so tenacious may be equally repugnant to the next generation. In this connection I would say, do not notice the pronunciation of the aged. They speak as they were taught, and yours may be just as uncourtly to the generations following. I was once taught a lesson on this subject, which I shall never forget while memory holds its sway. I was dining, when a &ther brought his son to take charge of a literary institution. He was intelligent, but had not received the early advantages which he had labored hard to procure for his son ; and his language was quite a contrast to that of the cultivated youth. But the attention and deference he gave to his father's quaint though wise remarks, placed him on a higher pinnacle in my mind, than he was ever placed by his world-wide reputation as a scholar and writer. — Congregationalist, Alone She moves, the queen of her own quiet home. — Bev. Marh Trafton. 103 MY MOTHER'S BIBLE. Qeokge p. Mobeis. ^HIS book is all that's left me now, — Tears will unbidden start, — With faltering lip and throbbing brow I press it to my heart. For many generations past Here is our family tree ; My mother's hands this Bible clasped, She, dying, gave it me. Ab ! well do I remember those Whose names these records bear ; Who round tbe hearthstone used to close After tbe evening prayer, And speak of what these pages said, In tones my beart would thi-ill ! Though they are with the silent dead. Here are they living still ! My father read this holy book To brothers, sisters, dear ; How calm was my poor mother's look Who loved God's word to hear ! Her angel face — I see it yet ! ' What thronging memories come 1 Again that little group is met Within the halls of home I 103 MT MOTMBE'S BIBLE. Thou truest friend man ever knew, Thy constancy I've tried ; When all were false, I found thee true, My counselor and guide. The mines of earth no treasures give That could this volume buy ; In teaching me the way to live, It taught me how to die ! MY MOTHER'S BIBLE. Bishop Gelbbet Haven. ^fN one of the shelves in my library, surrounded by volumes of U| all kinds, on various subjects, and in various languages, p stands an old book, in. its plain covering of brown paper, unprepossessing to the eye, and apparently out of place among the more pretentious volumes that stand by its side. To the eye of a stranger it has certainly neither beauty nor comeliness. Its covers are worn; its leaves marred by long use; its pages, once white, have become yellow with age; yet, old and worn as it is, to me it is the most beautiful and most valuable book on my shelves. 'Eo other awakens such associations, or so appeals to all that is best and noblest within me. It is, or rather it was, my mother's Bible — companion of her best and holiest hours, source of her unspeak- able joy and consolation. From it she derived the principles of a truly Christian life and character. It was the light to her feet and the lamp to her path. It was constantly by her side ; and, as her steps tottered in the advancing pilgrimage of life,- and her eyes grew dim with age, more and more precious to her became the well-worn pages. One morning, just as the stars were fading into the dawn of the 104 MT MOTH ER' S BIBLh. coming Sabbath, the aged pilgrim passed on beyond the stars and beyond the morning, and entered into the rest of the eternal Sab- bath — to look upon the face of Him of whom the law and the prophets had spoken, and whom, not having seen, she had loved. And now, no legacy is to me more precious than that old Bible. Years have passed; but it stands there on its sbexf, eloquent as ever, witness of a beautiful life that is finished, and a silent monitor to the living. In hours of trial and sorrow it says, " Be not cast down, my son ; for thou shalt yet praise Him who is the health of thy countenance and thy God." In moments of weakness and fear it says, " Be strong now, my son, and quit yourself manfully." When sometimes, from the cares and conflicts of external liie, I come back to the study, weary of the world and tired of men — of men that are so hard and selfish, and a world that is so unfeeling — and the strings of the soul have become untuned and discordant, I seem to hear that Book saying, as with the well-remembered tones of a voice long silent, " tet not your heart be troubled. For what is your life ? It is even as a vapor." Then my troubled spirit becomes calm ; and the little world, that had grown so great and so formidable, sinks into its true place again. . I am peaceful, I arh strong. There is no need to take down the volume from the shelf, or open it. A glance of the eye is sufficient. Memory and the law of association supply the rest. Yet there are occasions -when it is otherwise; hours in life when some deeper grief has troubled the heart, some darker, heavier cloud is over the spirit and over the dwelling, and when it is a comfort to take down that old Bible and search its pages. Then, for a time, the latest editions, the original languages, the notes and commentaries, and all the critical apparatus which the scholar gathers around him for the study of the Scrip- tures are laid aside ; and the plain old English Bible that was my mother's is taken from the shelf. 105 MY MOTHER'S GHAYE. Eev. M. C. Hbndbksok. fHE grave of my mother is on an elevation that overlooks a beautiful village where many an hour was spent in study 'l^ ' and recreation, in days of boyhood. A marble slab marks the place where we laid her to rest, nearly a score of years ago. Occasionally, during these years have we stood by her grave, while precious remembrances have crowded upon our mind, and the sweet hope of meeting again cheered our sad heart. Our hands may be full of labor, our hearts burdened with care and the responsi- biXties of life, and our home far away, but a mother's grave, with all the hallowed associations clustering around, can never be forgotten. The grave of a mother is indeed a sacred spot. It may be retired from the noise of business, and unnoticed by the stranger, but to our hearts how dear! The love we bear to a mother, is not measured by years, is not annihilated by distance, nor forg6tten when she sleeps in dust. Marks of age may appear in our homes, and on our persons, but the memory of a mother is more enduring than time itself. Who has stood by the grave of a mother and not remembered her pleasant smiles,' kind words, earnest prayer, and assurance expressed in a dying hour? Many years may have passed, memory may be treacherous in other things, but will reproduce with freshness the impressions once made by a mother's influence. "Why may we not linger where rests all that was earthly of a sainted mother ? It may have a restraining influence upon the wayward, prove a valuable incentive to increased faithfulness, encourage hope in the hour of depression, and give fresh inspiration in Christian life. 106 MOTHERS, SPARE Y0URSELYE2. ^ANY a mother grows old, faded, and feeble long before her time, because her boys and girls are not thoughtfully '^ considerate and helpful.. When they become old enough to be of service in a household, mother has become so used to doing all herself, to taking upon her shoulders all the care, that she forgets to lay off the burden little by little, on those who are so well able to bear it. It is partly her own fault, to be sure, but a fault committed out of love and mistaken kindness foi her children. — Anonymous. MY MOTHER'S CRAYE, George D. Pkbnticb. JHE trembling dewdrops fell Upon the shutting flowers ; like star-set rest The stars shine gloriously, and ali, Save me, are blest.' Mother, I love thy grave ; The violet with its blossoms, blue and mild Waves o'er thy head ; when shall it wave Above thy child ? Tis a sweet flower, yet must Its bright leaves to thp coming tempest bow ! Dear mother, 'tis thine emblem ! dust Is on thy brow. G 107 Mr MOTHER'S GRAVE. And I could love to die ; To leave untasted life's dark, bitter streams—- By thee, as erst in childhood, lie And sear thy dreams. But I must linger here To stain the plumage of my sinless years. And mourn the hopes to childhood dear, With bitter tears. Aye, I must linger here, A lonely branch upon a withered tree, Whose last frail leaf, untimely sere., "Went down with theft Oft from life's withered bower. In still communion with the past, I turn And muse on thee, the only flower In memory's urn. And when the evening pale Bows, like a mourner on the dim blue wave. I stay to hear the night winds wail Around thy grave. None knew thee but to love thee, None named thee but to praise. — Fitz Greene Halleck, 108 o Home of our childhood ! how affection clings And hovers round thee with her seraph wings ! Dearer thy hills, though clad in autumn brown, Than fairest summits which the cedars crown. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. Whenever we step out ot domestic life in search of felicity, we come back again, disappointed, tired, and chagrined. One day passed under our own roof, with our friends and our family, is yi'ortli a thousand in another place. EARL OF ORRERY. '-1RE 0L(1) HOJ/LSaTEfiCp. HOME. WRITTEN EXPRESSLY FOR THIS WORK BY FANNY J. CROSBY IS whispered in the ear of God, 'Tis murmured through our tears ; 'Tis linked with happy childhood dajs, And blessed in riper years. That hallowed word is ne'er forgot, No matter where we roam, The purest feelings of the heart, Stni cluster round our home. Dear resting-place, where weary thought, May dream away its care. Love's gentle star unveils her light. And shines in beauty there. 115 HOME. James Montgombby. ; 'HERE is a land of every land tlie pride, Beloved by heaven o'er all the world beside ; Where brighter suns dispense serener light, And milder moons emparadise the night ; A land of beauty, virtue, valor, truth. Time-tortured age, and love-exalted youth. The wandering mariner, whose eye explores The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores, Yiews not a realm so bountiful and fair, I^or breathes the spirit of a purer air ; In every cUme the magnet of his soul, Touched by remembrance, trembles to that pole ; For in this land of heaven's peculiar grace, The heritage of nature's noblest race, There is a spot of earth supremely blest. A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest. Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside His sword and sceptre, pageantry and pride, While in his softened looks bienignly blend The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend. Here woman reigns ; the mother, daughter, wife, Strew with fresh flowers the narrow way of life ! In the clear heaven of her delightful eye An angel-guard of loves and graces lie ; 116 HOME DEFINED. Around lier knees domestic duties meet, And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet. Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found \ Art thou a man ? — a patriot ? — ^look around ; Oh, thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam, That land thy country, and that spot thy home. HOME DEFIHED. Chablbs Swain, EOME'S not merely four square walls, Though with pictures hung and gilded : Home is where affection calls, Filled with shrines the heart hath builded! Home ! go watch the faithful dove. Sailing 'neath the heaven above us ; Home is where there's one to love ! Home is where there's one to love us ! Home's not merely roof and room, It needs something to endear it ; Home is where the heart can bloom, Where there's some kind lip to cheer it ! What is home with none to meet, None to welcome, none to greet us ? Home is sweet, — and only sweet — When there's one we love to meet us ! 117 THE HOME OF CHILDHOOD. Samtiel D. Bobchabd, D.D. 'HE most impressive series of pictures I have ever seen are by Thomas Cole, an American artist, and termed " The Voyage of Life." The first represents a child seated in a boat amid varied and beautiful flowers, and his guardian angel standing by to guard and protect the little voyager. The second represents the youth, still on his voyage, guiding his own bark down the stream, his finger pointing upward to a beautiful castle painted in the clouds. The third represents the man, still in the boat, going down the rapids ; the water rough, the sky threatening, and the guardian angel looking on from a distance, anxiously. The fourth represents an old man, still in his boat, the sun going down amid floating clouds tinged with gold, purple, and vermilion, the castle or House Beautiful in full view, and the guardian angel with an escort of shining celestials waiting to attend h'n ^.- h;3 home in glory. The pictures have suggested to me a series of articles on Life's Great Mission and work for the grander life beyond. And on this sublime voyage to the land of immortals, to the Palace Beautiful in the skies, let us start from the dear old home of childhood, that home which, though it may be desolate, is still imperishable in memory Home of my childhood, thou shalt ever be dear To the heart that so fondly revisits thee now ; 118 THE SOME OF CHILDHOOD. Though thy beauty he gone, thy leaf in the sere, The wreaths of the past still cling to thy brow. Spirit of mine, why linger ye Lere ; Why cling to those hopes so futile and vain ? Go, seek ye a home in that radiant sphere. Which through change and time thou shalt ever retain. Let our destined port be the home of the blessed — the city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God ! " And thou shalt bring thy father, and thy mother, and thy brethren, and thy father's household home unto thee." — Joshua ii. 18. The Christian home, implying marriage, mutual affection, piety,, gentleness, refinement, meekness, forbearance, is our ideal of earthly happiness — a beautiful and impressive type of heaven. It is more than a residence, a place of abode, however attractive in its surroundings, however richly adorned with art and beauty. It is where the heart is, where the loved ones are — husband, wife, father, mother, brothers, sisters, all united in sympathy, fellow- ship and worship. It may be humble, unpretentious, exhibiting no signs of material wealth; but there is the wealth of mutual affection, which fire cannot consume, and no commercial disaster alienate or destroy, and this is home — the home of the heart, the home of child- hood, the elysium of riper years, the refuge of age. That we may the better appreciate the Christian homes that God has given us — the homes of comfort and refinement, that rocked the cradle of our infancy — ^let us consider, first, the vast multitudes of our fallen race that really have no home; none in the Christian sense, none that antedate heaven in peace, refinement and mutual love. How many children are born to the heritage of vice, poverty and crime, left to drift upon the tide of circumstances, to be buffeted in the wild and angry storm, to be chilled on the desolate 119 THE HOME OF CHILDHOOD. moor of life — to wander amid the voids of human sympathy — the solitude and estrangement of human society — the children of dire misfortune — victims of vice and crime, polluted and polluting from the iirst. How many fall, like blossoms prematurely blown, nipped by the lingering frosts of winter and sinking into the shadowed stream, or the sobbing soil of earth to be seen no more. Think of the dwellings of hard-handed, wearied, ill-requited labor, where ignorance and discontent reign supreme, — where there is no recognition of God, who, in his all-wise Sovereignty, raiseth up one and casteth down another. Such homes, or rather places of abode, there are all over the land, all over the dark and wide realm of heathendom, the children of which must be devoted to sacrifice to the horrors of the Ganges or the Nile. Look now to the other extreme pf society, to the habitations of the millionaires, adorned with all the luxuries of wealth, the appli- ances of art, taste, beauty, whose children are trained up to worship at the shrine of Mammon, to exclude from their minds all thoughts of God and the hereafter, to live only for this world, to feel that there is no society worth cultivating except that of the rich, the elite, the would-be fashionable ; that all enjoyments are material, sensuous, worldly ; that the chief end of man is to eat, drink, and be merry. Such households do not furnish the best schools in which to educate children to wrestle with misfortune and to do the great work of life. They are liable to grow up effeminate, lacking execu- tive strength, cold, proud, misanthropic, alienated in sympathy from the toiling masses. There can be no well-regulated home without piety, without the fear and love of God. And such homes are usually found in the middle walks of life, not among the extreme poor, nor the proudly affluent, but among the mutually loving — the reverently worshipful. 120 SOME SONGS. It is to such homes that the world owes its highest interests. The old patriarchs understood the secret, even under the former dispen- sation, long before the dawn of the Christian era. God testified of Abraham, of Moses, of Samuel, and Job how truly they compre- hended the nature of that family institution, around which cluster all the associations of the first period of human life. And it has only been in the line and in the light of the Christian revelation, that the highest type of the household has been produced and preserved. And it is upon the application of Christian principles -alone, that the structure of the Christian family and the Chiistian home can stand. The family in its origin is divine, and God has instituted laws for its regulation and perpetuity, and these laws must be scrupu- lously observed and obeyed or it ceases to be an ornament and a blessing — the great training-school for the Church and the State — ■ the safeguard of society and a type of heaven. HOME SOHCS. |fH, sing once more those joy-provoking strains, R "Which, half forgotten, in my memory dwell ! They send the life-blood bounding through my veins, And circle round me like an airy spell. , The songs of home are to the human heart ^ Far dearer than the notes that song-birds pour, And of our inner nature seem a part ; Then sing those dear, familiar lays once more — ■Those cheerful lays of other days — Oh, sing those cheerful lays once more ! — Anonymous. 121 s«X THE OLD HOME, Alfred Tbnntso*; E love the wellrbeloved place Where first we gazed upon the sky ; ^ The roofs that heard our earliest crj, J ^^' ^^^^ shelter one of stranger race. I We go, but ere we go from home, As down the garden-walks I move, Two spirits of a diverse love Contend for loving masterdom. One whispers, " Here thy boyhood sung Long since, its matin song, and heard The low love-language of the bird, In native hazels tassel-hung." The other answers, " Yea, but here Thy feet have strayed in after hours, With thy best friend among the bowers, And this hath made them trebly dear." These two have striven half a day ; • And each prefers his separate claim, Poor rivals in a losing game. That will not yield each other way. I turn to go : my feet have set To leave the pleasant fields and forms ; They mix in one another's arms To one pure image of regret. 122 HOME SHADOWS. EOBBET COLLTER, D. D. ^EIENDS, I wonder whether we have any deep conscious- ness of the shadows we are weaving about our children in the home ; whether we ever ask ourselves if, in the far future, when we are dead and gone, the shadow our home casts now wiU stretch over them for bane or blessing. It is possible we are full of anxiety to do our best, and to make our homes isacred to the children. We want them to come up right, to turn out good men and women, to be an honor and praise to the home out of which they sprang. But this is the pity and the danger, that, while we may not come short in any real duty of father and mother, we may yet cast no healing and sacramental shadow over the child. Believe me, Mends, it was not in the words he said, in the pressure of the hand, in the kiss, that the blessing lay Jesus gave to the little •ones, when he took them in his arras. So it is not in these, but in the shadow of my innermost, holiest self; in that which is to us Tvhat the perfume is to the flower, a soul within the soul, — it is that Avhich, to the child, and in the home, is more than the tongue of men or angels, or prophecy or knowledge, or faith that will move mountains, or devotion that will give the body to be burned. I look back with wonder on that old time, and ask myself how it is that Tuost of the things I suppose my father and mother built on espe- cially to mould me to a right manhood are forgotten and lost out of my life. But the thing they hardly ever thought of, — the shadow of blessing cast by the home ; the tender, unspoken love ; the sacri- fices made, and never thought of,, it was so natural to make them; ten thousand little things, so simple as to attract no notice, and yet 123 BOME SHADOWS. SO sublime as I look back at them, they fill my heart still and always with tenderness, when I remember them, and my eyes with tears. All these things, and all that belong to them, still come over me, and east the shadow that forty years, many of them lived in a new world, cannot destroy. I fear few parents know what a supreme and holy thing is this, shadow cast by the home, over, especially, the first seven years of this Hfe of the child. I think the influence that comes in this way is the very breath and bread of life. I may do other things for duty- or principle or religious training ; they are all, by comparison, as- when I cut and trim and train a vine ; and, when I let the sun shine- and the rain fall on it, the one may aid the life, the other is the life. Steel and string are each good in their place ; but what are^ they to sunshine ? It is said that a child, hearing once of heaven^ and that his father would be there, replied, " Oh ! then, I dinna want to gang." He did but express the holy instinct of a child, to whom the father may be all that is good, except just goodness, be all any child can want, except what is indispensable — that gracioua atmosphere of blessing in the healing shadow it casts, without which even heaven would come to be intolerable. HOME ADORHMEITS. Eev. Dk. Downing. ^^ EOOM without pictures is like a room without windows. Pictures are loop-holes of escape to the soul, leading to other scenes a^d other spheres. Pictures are consolers of loneliness ; they are books, they are histories and sermons, which we can read without the trouble of turning over the leaves. 124 HfiT'I'Y CHILOjHOOQ. THE 2CBHE2 OF MY CHILDHOOD, (the old oaken BtrCKET.) p'-'.W^t ? Samttbl Wobdsworth. i|.0'W dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, ^ When fond recollection presents them to view ! The orchard, the meadow, the deep tangled wildwood, And every loved spot which my infancy knew ! The wide-spreading pond and the mill that stood by it. The bridge and the rock where the cataract fell, The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it, And e'en the rude bucket that hung in the well ; The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket which hung in the well. That moss-covered vessel I hailed as a' treasure, For often at noon, when returned from the field, I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure. The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. How ardent I seized it with hands that were glowing. And quick to the white pebbled bottom it fell ; Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well ; The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket. The moss-covered bucket, arose from the well. How sweet from the green, mossy brim to receive it, As poised on the curb it inclined to my lips ! 137 LOKGINGS FOR HOME. Not a full, blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it, The brightest that beauty or revelry sips. And now, far removed from the loved habitation, The tear of regret will intrusively swell. As fancy reverts to my father's plantation, And sighs for the bucket that hangs in the well ; The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,' The moss-covered bucket, that hangs in the well ! LOHCIHCS FOR HOME. Oliver Goldsmith. 'N all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs — and God has given my share— I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down ; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting, by repose ; I still had hopes, for pride attends us still, Amidst the swains to show my book-learned skill ; Around my fire an evening group to draw. And tell of all I felt, and all I saw ; And as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue, Pants to the place from whence at first she flew, I still had hopes, my long vexations past, Here to return — ^and die at home at last. The only way to have a friend is to be one. — E. W. Emerson. 123 HOME COYERHMBHT— WHAT 12 IT? pT is not to watch children with a suspicious eye, to frown at jl^Hll^ the merry outbursts of innocent hilarity, to suppress their '4m'' joyous laughter, and to mould them into melancholy little models of octogenarian gravity. And when they have been in fault, it is not simply to punish them on account of the per- sonal injury that you have chanced to suffer in consequence of their fault, while disobedience, unattended by inconvenience to yourself, passes without rebuke. Nor is it to overwhelm the little culprit with angry words ; to stun him with a deafening noise; to c^ll him by hard names, which do not express his misdeeds ; to load him with epithets which would be extravagant if applied to a i'aalt of tenfold enormity; or to declare, with passionate vehemence, that he is the worst child in the world and destined for the gallows. But it is to watch anxiously for the Jirst risings of sin, and to repress them ; to counteract the earliest workings of selfishness ; to repress the Jirst beginnings of rebellion against rightful authority ; to teach an implicit and unquestioning and cheerful obedience to the will of the parent, as the best preparation for a future allegiance to the requirements of the civil magistrate, and the laws of the great Euler and Father in heaven. It is to punish a fault because it is a fault, because it is sinful, and contrary to the command of God, without reference to whether it may or may not have been productive of immediate injury to the parent or others. H 139 HOME G VMSNMUJVT — ITS IMPORTANCE. It is to reprove with calmness and composure, and not witk angry irritation, — in a few words fitly chosen, and not with a torrent of abuse ; to punish as often as you threaten, and to threaten only when you intend and can remember to perform ; to say what you mean, and infallibly do as you say. It is to govern your family as in the sight of Him who gave you authority, and who will reward your strict fidelity with such' bless- ings as he bestowed on Abraham, or punish your criminal neglect with such curses as He visited on Eli. — Mother's Treasury. HOME aOYERHMSIT— ITS IMPORTAHCE. Key. B. F. Booth. HE importance of sacredly guarding the family relation can not well be overestimated. It is the foundation-stone of ^^ all that is good and pure both in civilization and religion. Take this away, and the whole fabric must topple and fall. The first government on earth was patriarchal, and in it was contained the inception of all civil authority ; and, indeed, all rightful civil government to the present day is only an enlarged form of family government in a representative form, taking into consideration the wants and necessities of each individual family within its juris- diction. The unity and perpetuity of the family tie in purity and peace is the only safeguard to national perpetuity, peace, and honor. Demoralize the family and you thereby destroy both domestic and national happiness, and undermine completely the temple of virtue and hope, and prepare the way of moral and civil desolation. The first impulse of patriotism and morality is germi- nated, nurtured, and largely if not entirely developed in the family 130 HOME G OVBBNMENT — ITS IMFOE TANCE . circle. It is here that the first fruits of everything which is good and pure are brought forth. Hence the nations that disregard the sacredness of this relation have no permanent forms of government, and anything like common morality is nowhere to be found among them. And it is also worthy of careful note that just so far as any people depart from the true form of the family tie, just in that same ratio do they give evidence of it in their civility and morality. It is therefore within the family circle that the star of hope, of religion and civil rights is to be seen, and let it go down and all would be turned into the dismaV darkness of midnight without moon or star to guide the weary pilgrim on his way. This spot is to be guarded as the tree of life, with the flaming sword turning either way, perjjetu- ally guarantying thus the most sacred bond of union and strength and the only remaining institution of man's primeval state. There may be, and doubtless are, numerous abuses of the marriage state ; but that does not argue against its importance, neither does it detract from its absolute value and necessity. The family circle may be — ought to be — the most charming and delightful place on earth, the center of the purest affections and most desirable associations as well as the most attractive and exalted beauties to be found this side of paradise. Nothing can exceed in beauty and sublimity the quietude, peace, harmony, aifection, and happiness of a well-ordered family, where virtue is nurtured and every good principle fostered and sustained. From the well-ordered homes in this great, broad land of religious and civil liberty not only are great and good statesmen torcome, and eminently pious and intelligent divines ; but what is equally important, from these homes must come the more common populace of the land, upon whose intelligence, patriotism, and purity depends the continuance of the rich blessings which are now common to all. If freedom is kept and sanctified by the people ; if the true spirit of Christianity is to 131 HOME GOVERNMENT — ITS I M P R TA.N G E . be continued, in all its sacred purity, on to our children's children, even to the latest generations of men, they must be kept inviolate in our' families and impressed in our homes. They are both dependent, upon the family circle and the training and order administered therein. Then they who would dissolve the marriage rite, with all its hallowed and binding influences, would overthrow everything that is wortli living for, and turn society into a bedlam of confusion and moral degradation ; for it is the chain that binds the entire net- work of human society together, in all of its highest prospects, both for time and eternity. There is no. civilization equal to it; in fact, there is none without it to the Christian, and there is no Christian civilization without the marriage ceremony, in all of its binding and uniting force. In fact, domestic happiness is wholly dependent upon the sanctity of the marriage relation ; is an exclusive trait of Christianity ; and Christianity is the only system in the world calcu- lated to advance the interests of common humanity, and insure to all equal rights, earthly bliss, and a sweet home forever beyond the- narrow limits of the quiet tomb. What was said concerning Abraham may be said of every true Christian father : " For I know him, that he will command his- children and his household after him ; and they shall keep the way of the Lord, to do justice and judgment, that the Lord may bring upon Abraham that which he hath spoken of him." Happy is that nation whose children are brought up in families like this. There purity, virtue, and true manhood in every principle of justice and mercy will be permanently secured. What an important place, therefore, does the family occupy in the social, moral, and political worlds ! Take this away, and the bond of sacred union is forever dissolved, and the most distressing and deplorable results must follow. Break asunder these centers of holy affections of truth, honor, and purity, and you will fill the land with every enormityj 132 HOME TRAINING OF CHILDREN. and desolation, the most far-reaching and dreadful, will fill its entire breadth. It is highly important and necessary not only to continue the validity of the marriage rite, upon which the true idea of the family, is based, but great care should be exercised to make these homes all that they can and should be made, — the most delightful and enticing places on earth, where everything that is good is encouraged, and everytiiing evil pointed out and discountenanced ; for as children leave the parental home they are, to a large extent, molded for life. Orders and correct morals should here receive the proper stamp upon the opening mind. Yes, everything we wish our children to be, in time and eternity, should here be taught and enforced. Then " all thy children shall be taught of the Lord, and great shall be the peace of thy children." HOME TRAIHIHC OF CHILDREN. D. L. Moody. HA YE no doubt some parents have got discouraged and disheartened that they have not seen their children brought to the Saviour as earl_^ as they expected. I do not know any thing that has encouraged me more in laboring for children than my experience. in the inquiry room. In working there I have found that those who had religious training, whose "parents strove early to lead them to Christ, have been the easiest to lead to- ward Him. I always feel as if I had a lever to work with when I know that a man has been taught by a godly father and mother ; even if his parents died when he was young, the impression that they died pray^Dg for him has always a great eifect through life. I find that such men are always so much easier reached, and thougl) we may not live to see all our prayers answered, and all our children brought 133 SOME TRAINING OF CHILDREN. into the fold, yet we should teach them diligently, and do it in love. There is where a good many make a mistake, by not teaching their children in love — by doing it coldly or harshly. Many send them off to read the Bible by themselves for punishment. Why, I would piit my hand in the fire before I would try to teach them in that way. If we teach our children as we ought to do, instead of Sunday being the dreariest, dullest, tiresomest day of the week to them, it will be the brightest, happiest day of the whole seven. "What we want to do is to put religious truths before our children in such an attractive form that the Bible will be the most attractive of books to them. Children want the same kind of food and truth that we do, only we must cut it up a little finer, so that they can eat it. I have great respect for a father and mother who have brought up a large family and trained them so that they have come out on the Lord's side. Sometimes mothers are discouraged and do not think they have so large a sphere to do good in as we have, but a mother who has brought up a large family to Christ need not consider her life a failure. I know one who has brought up ten sons, all Christians ; do you think her life has been a failure ? Let us teach our children diligently, in season and out of season. We might train them that they shall be converted so early they can't tell when they were con- verted. I do not believe, as some people seem to think, that they have got to wander off into sin first, so that they may be brought back to Christ. Those who have been brought up in that way from their earliest childhood, do not have to spend their whole life in forgetting some old habit. Let us be encouraged in bringing our children to Christ. Home is the grandest of all institutions. — O. H. Spurgeon. 134 HOME AFFECTIOH. H. C. Dane. 7FFEOTION does not beget wealyiess, nor is it eft'eminate for a brother to be tenderly attached to his sisters. That boy will make the noblest, the bravest man. On the battle- field, in many terrible battles during our late horrible war, I always noticed that those boys who had been reared under the tenderest home culture always made the best soldiers. They were always brave, always endured the severe hardships of camp, the march, or on the bloody field most silently, and were most dutifuL at every call. More, much more, they resisted the frightful tempta- tions that so often surrounded them, and seldom returned to their loved ones stained with the sins incident to war. Another point, they were always kind and polite to those 'whom they met in the enemy's country. Under their protection, woman was always safe. How often I have heard one regiment compared with another, when the cause of the difference was not comprehended by those who drew the comparison ! I knew the cause — it was the home education. We see the same every day in the busy life of the city. Call together one hundred young men in our city, and spend an evening with them, and we will tell you their home education. "Watch them as. they approach jovag ladies, and converse with them, and we will show you who have been trained under the infiuence of home affec- tion and politeness, and those who have not. That young man who was accustomed to kiss his sweet, innocent, loving sister night and morning as they met, shows its influence upon him, and he will never forget it ; and when he shall take some 135 HOME TEACHING. one to his heart as his wife, she shall reap the golden fruit thereof. The young man who was in the habit of giving his arm to his sister as they walked to and from church, will never leave his wife to find her way as best she can. The young man who has been taught to see that his sister had a seat before he sought his, will never mortify a neglected wife in the presence of strangers. And that young man wiio always handed his sister to her chair at the table, vdll never have cause to blush as he sees some gentleman extend to his wife the courtesy she knows is due from him. Mothers and daughters, wives and sisters, remember that, and remember that you have the making of the future of this great country, and rise at once to your high and holy Aniy- Remember that you must make that future, whether you will or not. "VVe are all what you make us. Ah ! throw away your weakening follies of fashion, and soul-famine, and rise to the level where God intended you should be, and make every one of your homes, from this day, schools of true politeness and tender affection. Take those little curly-headed boys, and teach them all you would have men to be, and my word for it, they will be just such men, and will go forth to bless the world, and crown you with a glory such as queens and empresses never dreamed of. "Wield your power now, and you shall reap the fruit in your ripe age. HOME TEACHIHG. Jajits Thomson. J^ELTGHTFUL task! to rear the tender t! .ought, (^^^ To teach the young idea how to shoot. To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind. To breathe the enliv'ning spirit, and to fix The generous purpose in the glowing breast. 136 HOME IH2TRUCTI0H. Hon. SchuyIjEb Colfax. I f BO YE all things, teach children what their life is. It is ^Ji not breathing, moving, playing, sleeping, simply. Life is a battle. All thoughtful people see it so. A battle between good and evil from childhood. Good influences, drawing us up toward the divine ; bad influences, drawing us down to the brute. Midway we stand, between the divine and the brute. How to cultivate the good side of the nature is the greatest lesson of life to teach. Teach children that they lead these two lives : the life without, and the life within ; and that the inside must be pure in the sight of God, as well as the outside in the sight of men. There are five means of learning. These are : Observation, reading, conversation, memory, reflection. Educators sometimes, in their anxiety to secure a wide range of studies, do not sufiiciently impress upon their scholars the value of memory. ITow, our memory is one of the most wonderful gifts God has bestowed upon us ; and one of the most mysterious. Take a tumbler and pour water into it ; by-and-by you can pour no more ; it is full. It is not so with the mind. You cannot fill it full of knowledge in a whole life-time. Pour in all you please, and it still thirsts for more. Eemember this : Knowledge is not what you learn, but what you remember. It is not what you eat, but what you digest, that makes you grow. It is not the money you handle, but that you keep, that makes you rich. 13? HOMM INFLUENCES. It is not what you study, but what you remember and reflect upon, that makes you learned. One more suggestion : Above all things else, strive to fit the children in your charge to be useful men and women ; men and women you may be proud of in after-life. While they are young, teach them that far above physical courage, which will lead them to face the cannon's mouth — above wealth, which would give them farms and houses, and bank stocks and gold, is moral courage. That courage by which they will stand fearlessly, frankly, firmly, for the right. Every man or woman who dares to stand for the right when evil has its legions, is the true moral victor in this life, and in the land beyond the stars. HOMS IHFLUEHCES. d . . . HERE is music in the word home. To the old it brings a. bewitching strain from the harp of memory ; to the young it is a reminder of all that is near and dear to them. Among the many songs we are wont to listen to, there is not one more cherished than the touching melody of "Home, Sweet Home." Will you go back with me a few years, dear reader, in the history of the past, and traverse in imagination the gay streets and gilded saloons of Paris, that once bright center of the world's follies and pleasures? Passing through its splendid thoroughfares is one (an Englishman) who has left his home and native land to view the splendors and enjoy the pleasures of a foreign country. He has beheld with delight its paintings, its sculpture, and the grand yet 138 BOME INFLUENCES. graceful proportions of its buildings, and has yielded to the spell of the sweetest muse. Yet, in the midst of his keenest happiness, when he was rejoicing most over the privileges he possessed, temptations assailed him. Sin was presented to him in one of its most bewitch- ing garbs. He drank wildly and deeply of the intoxicating cup, and his draught brought madness. Eeason was overwhelmed, and he rushed out, all his scruples overcome, careless of what he did or how deeply he became immersed in the hitherto unknown sea of guilt. The cool night air lifted the damp locks from his heated brow, and swept with soothing touch over his flushed cheeks. Walking on, calmer, but no less determined, strains of miisic fi-om a distance met his ear. Following in the direction the sound indicated, he at length distinguished the words and air. The song was well-remem- bered. It was "Home, Sweet Home." Clear and sweet the voice of some English singer rose and fell on the air, in the soft cadences of that beloved melody. Motionless, the wanderer listened till the last note floated away and he could hear nothing* but the ceaseless murmur of a great city. Then he turned slowly, with no feeling that his manhood was shamed by the tear which fell as a bright evidence of the power of song. The demon that dwells in the wine had fled ; and reason once more asserted her right to control. As the soft strains of " Sweet Home " had floated to his ear, memory brought up before him his own " sweet home." He saw his gentle mother, and heard her speak, while honest pride beamed from her eye, of her son, in whose noble- ness and honor she could always trust ; and his heart smote him as he thought how little he deserved such confidence. He remembered her last words of love and counsel, and the tearful farewell of all those dear ones who gladdened that far-away home with their presence. We'l he knew their pride in his integrity, and the tide of remorse 139 THE SMILES OF HOME. swept over his spirit as he felt what their sorrow would be could they have seen him an hour before. Subdued and repentant, he retraced his steps, and with this vow never to taste of the terrible draught that could so excite him to madness was mingled a deep sense of thankfulness for his escape from further degradation. .The iniiuence of home had protected him, though the sea rolled between. None can tell how often the commission of crime is prevented by such memories. If, then, the spell of home is so powerful, how important it is to make it pleasant and lovable ! Many a time a jheerful home and smiling face does more to make good men and women, than all the learning and eloquence that can be used. It has been said that the sweetest words in our language are " Mother, Home and Heaven;" and one might almost say the word, home included them all ; for who can think of home without remembering the gentle mother who sanctified it by her presence ? And is not home the dearest name for heaven ? We think of that better land as a home where brightness will never end in night. Oh, then, may our homes on earth be the centers of all our joys ; may they be as green spots in the desert, to which we can retire when weary of the cares and perplexities of life, and drink the clear waters of a kve w hich we know to be sincere and always unfailing. -:— Saturday Evening Pos THE SMILES OF HOME. John Keblb. ^ WEET is the smile of home ; the mutual look Where hearts are of each other sure ; Sweet all the joys that crowd the household nook, The haunt of all affections pure. 140 HOME COURTESY. 1 pleasanter sight is there, than a family of young folks who 11 are quick to perform little acts of attention toward their elders. The placing of the big arm-chair for mamma, run- ning for a footstool for aunty, hunting up papa's spectacles, and scores of little deeds, show the tender sympathy of gentle loving hearts ; but if mamma never returns a smiling, " Thank you, dear;" if papa's "Just what I was wanting, Susie," does not indicate that the little attention is appreciated, the children soon drop the habit. Little people are imitative creatures, and quickly catch the spirit surrounding them. So if, when the mother's spool of cotton roll from her lap, the father stoops to pick it up, bright eyes will see the act, and quick minds make a note of it. By example, a thousand times >more quickly than by precept, can children be taught to speak kindly to each other, to acknowledge favors, to be gentle and unselfish, to be thoughtful and considerate of the comfort of the family. The boys, with inward pride of their father's courteous demeanor, will be chivalrous and helpful to their own young sisters ; the girls, imitating their mother, will be patient and gentle, even when big brothers are noisy and heedless. In the homes where true courtesy prevails, it seems to meet you on the threshold. You feel the kindly welcome on entering. 'No angry voices are heard up- stairs. No sullen children are sent from the room. No peremptory orders are given to cover the delinquencies of house-keeping or servants. A delightful atmosphere pervades the house — unmistak- able, yet indescribable. Such a house, filled by the spirit of love, is a home indeed to all 141 HOME OF OUR CHILDBOOD. who enter within its consecrated walls. And it is of such a home that the Master said, "And into whatsoever house ye enter, first say, Peace be to this house. And if the Son of Peace be there, your peace shall rest upon it." Luke x. 5, 6. " Blest are th.e sons of peace Whose hearts and hopes are one ; Whose kind designs to serve and please. Through all their actions run. " Thus on the heavenly hills. The saints are hlessed above ; Where joy like morning dew distills. And all the air is love." — Anonymous. "iS^^ THE HAPPY HOME. Martin F. Tcppbk. HAPPT home ! O, bright and cheerful hearth ! Look round with me, my lover, friend, and wife, On these fair faces we have lit with life. And in the perfect blessing of their birth, Help me to live our thanks for so much heaven on earth. HOME OP OUH CHILDHOOD. Olivek Wendell Holmes. jtuT OME of our childhood ! How affection clings (3*-, And hovers round thee with her seraph wings ! Dearer thy hills, though clad in autumn brown, Than fairest summits which the cedars crown ; Sweeter the fragrance of thy summer breeze, Than all Arabia breathes along the seas ! The stranger's gale wafts home the exile's sigh, For the heart's temple is its own blue sky. 143 AH IDEAL HOME. Samuel Eogebs. I^TE be a cot beside the hill ; A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear ; A willowy brook, that turns a mill, With many a fall, shall linger near. The swallow oft, beneath my thatch, Shall twitter near her clay-built nest ; Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch. And share my meal, a welcome guest. Around my ivied porch shall spring Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew ; And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing. In russet gown and apron blue. The village church beneath the trees, Where first our marriage vows were given. With merry peals shall swell the breeze. And point with taper spire to heaven. HOME. Jambb Thomboit. )ME is the resort Of love, of joy, of peace, and plenty, where Supporting and supported, polish'd friends, And dear relations mingle into bliss. 145 HOME RELIGIOH. SVfcfe lll^^r HOUSE may be full of persons who are very, dear to each " || other, very kind to each other ; full of precious things, — affections, hopes, living interests ; but if God is not there as the Euler and Father of the house, the original and true idea of home will not be realized ; vacancy and need will still be at the heart of all. Good things will grow feebly and uncertainly, like flowers in winter, trying to peep out into sunshine, yet shrinking from the blast. Evil things will grow with strange persistency, notwithstanding protests of the affections and efforts of the will. Mysterious gulfs will open at times where it was .thought strong foundations had been laid. Little things will produce great distress. Great things, when attained, will shrink to littleness. Elickerings of uncertainty and fear will run along the days. Joys will not satisfy. Sorrow will surprise. In the Yevy heart of the godless home there will be sickness, arising from need unsatisfied and " hope deferred." It will be as when a man of ingenuity tries in vain to put together the separated parts of a complicated piece of mechanism. He tries in this way and that, puts the pieces into every conceivable mode of arrange- ment, then at last stops, and says : " There must be a piece want- ing." Home without Divine presence is at best a moral structure with the central element wanting. The other elements may- be arranged and re-arranged ; they will never exactly fit, nor be " compact together," until it is obtained. We have heard of haunted houses. That house will be haunted with the ghost of an unrealized idea. It 146 HOME RELIGION. will seem to its most thoughtful inmates at best but " the shadow of some good thing to come ; " and the longing for the substance will be the more intense, because the shadow, as a providential prophecy, is always there. In many a house there is going on, by means of those quick spiritual sighs by which one above can read, what we may call a dialogue of souls, composed chiefly of unspoken questions, which, if articulate, might be something like the following : " How is it that we cannot be to each other as we wish, that we cannot do for each other what we try, even when it seems to be quite within the range of possibility ? Why is there such a sorrow in our affection ? such a trembling in our joys ? so great a fear of change, and so profound a sense of incompleteness in connection with the very best we can- do and be?" And what is the answer to such mute yet eager questionings ?' And who can speak that answer ? That One above who hears the dialogue must take part in it ; and all must listen while He speaks, and tells of another fatherhood, under which the parents must become little children, of another brotherhood which, when attained, will make the circle complete. "When the members of such a house- hold, who have been looking so much to each other, shall agree to give one earnest look above, and say, " Our Father, which art in heaven!" "our elder Brother, and .Advocate with the Father!" then will come back, sweet as music, into the heart of that house, these fulfilling words from the everlasting Father, " Ye shall be my sons and daughters ; " from the eternal Son, " Behold my mother and sister and brother ! " Then the one thing that was lacking will be present. The missing element will be in its place, and all the other elements will be assembled around it. It is a haunted house no more. The ghost has been chased away. The house is whole- some. Mornings are welcome. Nights are restful. The aching I 147 MAPPY HOME DEFINED. son-ow Las passed away now from the heart of that home. The long-sought secret is revealed. Soul whispers to soul, " Emmanuel, God with us." Home is home at last. — Mot]ier''!i Treasury. KIHE WORDS AT HOME, m I^PEAK kindly in the morning; it lightens the cares of the day, and makes the household and all other affairs move along more smoothly. Speak kindly at night, for it may be that before the dawn some loved one may iinish his or her space of life, and it will be too late to ask forgiveness. Speak kindly at all times; it encourages the downcast, cheers the sorrowing, and very likely awakens the erring to earnest resolves to do better, with strength to keep them. Kind words are balm to the soul. They oil up the entire machinery of life, and keep it in good running order. — Anonymous. .A HAPPY HOME DEFINED. Rev. De. Hamilton. \^^IX things are requisite to create a happy home. Integrity must ^^ be the architect, and tidiness the upholsterer. It must be warmed by affection, and lightened up with cheerfulness, and industry must be the ventilator, renewing the atmosphere and bringing in fresh salubrity day by day ; while over all, as a protect- ing canopy and glory, nothing will suffice except the blessings of God. lis HOME AND FRIENDS. Charles Swain. j^H ! there's a power to make each hour As sweet as Heaven designed it ; Nor need we roam to bring it home. Though few there be that find it : We seek too high for things close by, And lose what nature found us, For life hath here no charms so dear, As home and friends around us. We oft destroy the present joy For future hopes — and praise them ; Whilst flowers as sweet bloom at our feet, If we'd but stoop to raise them ; For things afar still sweetest are When youth's bright spell hath bound us ; But soon we're taught the earth hath naught Like home and friends around us. The friends that speed in time of need, Where hope's last need is shaken, Do show us still that, come what will, We are not quite forsaken : Though all were nigh, if but the light From friendship's altar crowned us, 'T would prove the bliss of earth was this-;" Our homes and friends around us. 149 WELL DOHEI Key. Theodoee L. Cuttler. ^^l KISS from my mother made me a painter," said the vet- Jb eran artist, Benjamin West, after he had won fame and hung his pictures in Koyal Academies. When she looked 1?^ at his first boyish sketch she praised it ; if she had been a silly j or a sulky parent she might have said, " Foolish child, don't waste your time on such daubs," and so have quenched the first spark of his ambition. Commendation is a prodigious power in train- ing children. One sentence of honest praise bestowed at the right time is worth a whole volley of scolding. Everybody likes to be praised. When the tough of the struggle comes, a hearty word of encour- agement puts new mettle into the blood, and carries us over the crisis. All my readers may recall the incident of the gallant firemap who ascended the ladder to rescue the child who was in an upper window of the burning building. When the flames burst into his face he faltered. " Give him a cheer ! " shouted a sagacious person in the crowd. A tremendous huzza arose from the whole multitude, and through the flame and smoke he went on until the child was reached and rescued. There is many a boy who has been stunted or soured or spoiled by harsh discouragements. There is many a grown man also to whom a hearty " Well done ! " would have car- ried him through the pinch and saved him from failure. The sun understands how to raise plants and open flowers at this season of the year ; he just smiles on them and kisses them with his warm rays, and they begin to grow and unfold. That master of human nature, JSTapoleon, knew the value of an approving word, a promo- tion, or a medal of honor. One of his dying veterans on the battle- field, as he received the grand cross of the " Legion of Honor " from the Emperor's own hands, said, " Now I die satisfied." 150 FAMILY PRAYERS. E are far from thinking tliat the good old custom of having family prayers is being dropped from Christian house- holds. It is a custom held in honor wherever there is ^^ real Christian life, and it is the one thing which, more than any other, knits together the loose threads of a home and unites its various members before God. The short religious service in which parents, children, and friends daily join in praise and prayer, is at once an acknowledgment of dependence on the heavenly Father and a renewal of consecration to his work in the world. The Bible is read, the hymn is sung, the petition is offered, and unless all has been done as a mere formality and without hearty assent, those who have gathered at the family altar leave it helped, soothed, strength- ened, and armored, as they were not before they met there. The eick and the absent are remembered. The tempted and the tried are commended to God, and, as the Israelites in the desert were attended by the pillar and the cloud, so in life's wilderness the family who inquire of the Lord are constantly overshadowed by his presence and love. There are many reasons which are allowed to interfere with and thrust aside the privilege of family prayer in homes where father and mother mean to have it daily. Whatever comes in the way of a plain duty ought, however, to be set aside. If there be any among our readers who recognize the need there is in their house to have a daily open worship of God, let them begin it at once. They must find the time, choose the place, and appoint the way. The actual time spent in worship may be a 151 FREQUENT PRATER. few minutes only. A brief service which cannot tire the youngest child, if held unvaryingly as the sun, in the morning when the day begins, and in the evening when its active labors close, is far more useful and edifying than a long one which fatigues attention. It is possible to have a daily worship which shall be earnest, vivi- fying, tender and reverential, and yet a weariness to nobody. Only let the one who conducts it mean toward the Father the sweet obe- dience of the grateful child, and maintain the attitude of one who goes about earthly affairs with a soul looking beyond and above them to the rest that remaineth in heaven. It is not every one who is able to pray in the hearing of others with ease. The timid tongue falters, and the thoughts struggle in vain for utterance. But who is there who cannot read a Psalm, or a chapter, or a cluster of verses, and, kneeling, repeat in accents of tender trust the Lord's prayer ? When we think of it, that includes everything. — Christian at Work. FREQUEHT PRAYER. Bishop Tatlok. i^ii RATER is the key to open the day, and the bolt to shut in the night. But as the clouds drop the early dew, and the !.VS^ evening dew upon the grass, yet it would not spring and J| 1, grow green by that constant and double falling of the dew, unless some great shower at certain seasons did supply the rest ; so the customary devotion of prayer twice a day is the falling of the early and latter dew. But if you will increase and flourish in works of grace, empty the great clouds sometimes, and let them fall in a full shower of prayer. Choose out seasons when prayer shall overflow like Jordan in time of harvest. 152 ^^^^(f NO TIME TO PRAY. O time to pray ! Oh, who so fraught with earthly care As not to give to humble prayer Some part of day 1 1^0 time to pray ! What heart so clean, so pure within, That needeth not some check from sin, Needs not to pray ? No time to pray ! 'Mid each day's danger, what retreat More needful than the mercy-seat ? Who need ngt pray ? No time to pray ! Then sure your record falleth short ; Excuse will fail you as resort, On that last day. What thought more drear, Than that our God his face should hide. And say through all life's swelling tide. No time to hear ! — Anonymous. Always leave the home with loving words, for they may be the last. 153 THE CHILDREI, ^ Charles Dickensom. I HEN the lessons and tasks are all ended, J And the school for the day is dismissed, And the little ones gather around me, To bid me good-night and be kissed ; Oh, the little white arms that encircle My neck in a tender embrace ! Oh, the smiles that are halos of heaven, Shedding sunshine of love on my face ! And vs^hen they are gone I sit dreaming Of my childhood too lovely to last ; Of love that my heart will remember, Wben it wakes to the pulse of the past. Ere the world and its wickedness made me A partner of sorrow and sin ; When the glory of God was about me. And the glory of gladness within. Oh ! my heart grows weak as a woman's. And the fountain of feeling will flow, When I think of the paths steep and stony. Where the feet of the dear ones must go ; Of the mountains of sin hanging o'er them, . Of the tempest of fate blowing wild ! Oh ! there is nothing on earth half so holy As the innocent heart of a child. 154 . , THJE CHILDREN. They are idols of hearts and of households ; They are angels of God in disguise ; His sunlight still sleeps in their tresses, His glory still gleams in their eyes ; Oh ! these truants from home and from heaven„ They have made me more manly and mild, And I know how Jesus could liken The kingdom of God to a child. I ask not a life for the dear ones. All radiant, as others have done, But that life may have enough shadow To temper the glare of the sun ; I would pray God to guard them from evil, But my prayer would come back to myself; Ah, a seraph may pray for a sinner, But a sinner must pray for himself. The twig is so easily bended, I have banished the rule and the rod ; I have taught them the goodness of knowledge, They have taught me the goodness of God ; My heart is a dungeon of darkness. Where I shut them from breaking a rule ; My frown is sufficient correction ; My love is the law of the school. I shall leave the old house in the autumn^ To traverse its threshold no more ; Ah, how I shall sigh for the dear ones, That meet me each morn at the door, 155 THE CHILDREN. I shall miss the '' good-nights " and the kisses, And the gush of their innocent glee, The group on the green, and the flowers That are brought every morning to me. I shall miss them at morn and evening, Their song in the school and the street ; I shall miss the low hum of their voices. And the tramp of their delicate feet. When the lessons and tasks are all ended, And death says : '' The school is dismissed," May the little ones gather around me, To bid me good-night and be kissed. THE CHILDREH. H. W. LONGFELLOW; H ! wliat would the world be to us If the children were no more ? We should dread the desert behind us Worse than the dark before. What the leaves are to the forest, With light and air for food. Ere their sweet and tender juices Have been hardened into wood — That, to the world, are children ; Through them it feels the glow Of a brighter and sunnier climate Than reaches the trunks below. 156 THE RIGHTS OF CHILDREK. jHE child has a right to ask questions and to be fairly answered ; not to be snubbed as if he were guilty of an impertinence, nor ignored as though his desire for informa- tion were of no consequence, nor misled as if it did not signify 1 whether true or false impressions were made upon his mind. The child has a right to his individuality, to be himself and no other ; to maintain against the world the divine fact for which he stands. And before this fact, father, mother, instructor should stand reverently; seeking rather to understand and interpret its signifi cance than to wrest it from its original purpose. It is not neces sarily to be inscribed with the family name, nor written over with family traditions. !N"ature delights in surprise and will not guarantee that the children of her poets shall sing, nor that every Quaker baby shall take kindly to drab color, or have an inherent longing for' a scoop-bonnet or a broad-brimmed hat. In the very naming of a child his individuality should be recog- nized. He should not be invested with the cast-off cognomen of some dead ancestor or historical celebrity, a name musty as the grave-clothes of the original wearer — dolefully redolent of old asso- ciations — a ghostly index-finger forever pointing to the past. Let it be something fresh ; a new name standing for a new fact, the sug- gestion of a history yet to be written, a prophecy to be fulfilled. The ass was well enough clothed in his own russet ; but when he would put on the skin of the lion, every attribute became contempti- ble. Commonj)lace people slip easily through the world ; but when we would find them heralded by great names, we resent the incon- 157 SUFFJiJRINGS OF CHILDHOOD. gruitj, and insist upon making them less than they are. George Washington selling peanuts, Julius Caesar as a bootblack, and Virgil a vender of old clothes, make but a sorry figure. We are indebted to our children for constant incentives to noble living ; for the perpetual reminder that we do not live to ourselves alone ; for their sakes we are admonished to put from us the debasing appetite, the un-worthy impulse ; to gather into our lives every noble and 'heroic quality, every tender and attractive grace. We owe them gratitude for the dark hours which their presence has brightened, for the helplessness and dependence which have won us from ourselves ; for the faith and trust which it is evermore their mission to renew ; for their kisses on cheeks wet with tears, and on brows that but for that caressing had furrowed into frowns. — LitteWs Living Age. SUFFERIHGS OF CHILDHOOD. 'hh ' SEi sufferings of a bashful boy! Can torture-chamber bo more dreadful than the juvenile party, the necessary paradi^ of the Christmas-dinner, to a shy boy ? I have sometimes taken the hand of such a one, and have found it cold and clammy ; desperate was the struggle of that young soul, afraid of he knew not what, caught by the machinery of society, which mangled him at every point, crushed every nerve, and filled him witli faintness and fear. How happy he might have been with that brood of young puppies in the barn, or the soft rabbits in their nest of hay ! How grand he was, paddling his poor leaky boat down the rapids, jumpitig into the river, and dragging it with his splendid strength over the rocks ! ^Nature and he Avere friends ; he was not afraid oi 158 SUJFFSBIJVGS OF CHILDHOOD. her; she recognized her child and greeted him with smiles. The young animals loved him, and his dog looked up into his fair blue eyes, and recognized his king. But this creature must be tamed ; he must be brought into prim parlors, and dine with propriety ; he must dress himself in garments which scratch, and pull, and hurt him ; boots must be put 'on his feet which pinch ; he must be clean, — terri- ble injustice to a faun who loves to roll down-hill, to grub for roots, to follow young squirrels to their lair, and to polish old guns rather than his manner. And then the sensitive boy, who has a finer grain than the majority of his fellows, suddenly thrown into the pandemonium of a public school ! Nails driven into the flesh could not inflict such pain as such a one suifers ; and the scars remain. One gentleman told me, in mature life, that the loss of a toy stolen from him in childhood still rankled. How much of the infirmity of human char- acter may be traced to the anger, the sense of wounded feeling, engendered by a wrong done in childhood when one is helpless to avenge ! All this may be caEed the necessary hardening process, but I do not believe in it. We have learned how to temper iron and steel, but we have not learned how to treat children. Could it be made a money-making process, like the Bessemer, I believe one could learn how to temper the human character. Our instincts of intense love for our children are not enough ; we should study it as a science. The human race is very busy ; it has to take care of itself, and to feed its young ; it must conquer the earth — ^perhaps it has not time to study Jim and Jack and Charley, and Mary and Emily and Jane, as problems. But, if it had, would it not perhaps pay? There would be fewer criminals. Many observers recommend a wise neglect — not too much in- quiry, but a judicious surrounding of the best influences, and ther 159 GOVERNMENT OF CHILDREN. let your young plant grow up. Yes ; but it should be a very wise neglect — it should be a neglect which is always on the watch lest some insidious parasite, some unnoticed but strong bias of character, take possession of the child and mould or ruin him. Of the ten boys running up yonder hill, five will be failures, two will be moderate successes, two will do better, one will be great, good and distinguished. If such are the terrible statistics — and I am told that they are so — who is to blame? Certainly the parent or guardian, or circumstance — and what is circumstance ? — Apjfleton^s Journal. aOYERHMBHT OF CHILDREK. HERE were many ideas entertained by the Puritan settlers of New England that happily were not bequeathed to those M^\ ^^^ came after tliem, but in fixing proper relations between parents and children, and in parental government generally, it I would have been better to have preserved some of the iniiexi- bility of discipline that distinguished them. The youth of the present have their own way too much. No obedience or respect is exacted from them by father or mother in many instances, and they grow up selfish, overbearing, and sometimes dangerous. The case of the boy in Maine who a year or so ago killed his father because he was angry with him, is probably familiar to all. The other day a father in New York was obliged to complain of his son on account of the boy's x-epeated thefts. When the youth had been sentenced, he turned to his father, and told him that as soon as he got out of jail lie would " blow the top of his head ofi"." A few days since a young man in high station in Brooklyn tried to murder his wife. He was 160 THE BEAUTIFUL HOME. neither intoxicated nor insane. The only trouble -was that he had always been permitted to have his own way, and the groove of self- ishness and petty tyranny to which he had been allowed to shape himself led but in one direction, and he considered any means — even shot-guns and bowie-knives — justifiable in revenging himself upon those who opposed in the slightest his wishes or course of life. Children need checks, direction and good influences. A well-gov- erned child is in the grand majority of cases sure to grow into a respectable man or woman, but the noblest natures may be blighted unless the weeds of untrained propensity are kept down. — Boston Post. THE BEAUTIFUL HOME. Olivek Wendell Holmes. NEVEK saw a garment too fine, for a man or maid ; there never was a chair too good for a cobbler or cooper or a king to sit in ; never a house too tine to shelter the human head. Elegance fits man. But do we not value these tools a little more than they are worth and sometimes mortgage a house for the mahogany we bring into it ? I had rather eat my dinner off the head of a barrel, or dress after the fashion of John the Baptist in the wilderness, or sit on a block all my life, than con- sume all myself before I got to a home, and take so much pains with the outside that the inside was as hollow as an empty nut. Beauty jfl a great thing, but beauty of garment, house, and furniture are tawdry ornaments compared with domestic love. All the elegance in the world will not make a home, and I would give more for a spoonful of real hearty love than for whole shiploads of furniture and all the gorgeousness the world can gather. 161 HOT ONE CHILD TO SPARE/ Mks. Ethel L. Beebs. HIGH shall it be ? Which shall it be ? " I looked at John — John looked at me, (Dear, patient John, who loves me yet, JxW As well as though my locks were jet). And when I found that I must speak. My voice seemed strangely low and weak r " Tell me again what Robert said ! " And then I listening bent my head. " This is his letter : — ' I will give A house and land while you shall live, If, in return, from out your seven, One child to me for aye is given.' " I looked at John's old garments worn, I thought of all that John had borne Of poverty, and work, and care, "Which I, though willing, could not share ; I thought of seven mouths to feed, Of seven little children's need. And then of this. — " Come, John," said I, "AVe'U choose among them as they lie Asleep ; " so, walking hand in hand, Dear John and I surveyed our band — * A father and mother in straitened circumstances, with seven children, were offered hj a wealthy, but childless neighbor, a comfortable provision, on condition that they would give him one of their children. This beautiful poem tells the result. 162 NOT ONE CHILD TO SPARE. First to the cradle lightly stepped, Where Lilian the baby slept. A glory 'gainst the pillow white ; Softly the father stooped to lay His rough hand down in loving way, "When dream or whisper made her stir, And huskily he said : " Not her, not her." We stooped beside the trundle-bed. And one long ray of lamplight shed Athwart the boyish faces there, In sleep so pitiful and fair ; .^ saw on Jamie's rough, red cheek, A tear undried. Ere John could speak, " He's but a baby, too," said I, And kissed him as we hurried by. Pale patient Kobbie's angel face Still in his sleep bore suffering's trace. " 1^0, for a thousand crowns, not him,'* He whispered, while,our eyes were dim. Poor Dick ! bad Dick ! our wayward son,. Turbulent, reckless, idle one — ■ Could he be spared ? " Nay, He who gave Bid us befriend him to his grave ; Only a mother's heart can be Patient enough for such as he ; And so," said John, " I would not dare To send him from her bedside prayer." Then stole we softly up above And knelt by Mary, child of love. " Perhaps for her 'twould better be," I said to John. Quite silently, 163 BABIES AND THEIR. BI6MT8. He lifted up a curl that lay Across her cheek in willful way, And shook his head, " Nay, love, not thee," The while my heart beat audibly. Only one more, our eldest lad, Trusty and truthful, good and glad — So like his father. " No, John, no — I can not, will not, let him go." And so we wrote, in courteous way. We could not drive one child away ; And afterward toil lighter seemed, Thinking of that of which we dreamed. Happy in truth that not one face Was missed from its accustomed place ; Thankful to work for all the seven, Trusting the rest to One in heaven ! BABIBS AHD THEIR RIGHTS. M. E. Sanqstee. BABY has a right, too frequently denied it, to lie let alone. It ought to be a rule in the nursery never to disturb the infant when it is happy and quiet. Older chiloien, too, two, three, and four years of age, who are amusing themselves m a peaceful, contented way, ought not to be wantonly interfered with. I have often seen a little creature lying in its c'rib coo- ing, laughing, crooning to itself in the sweetest baby fashion, without a care in the world to vex its composure, when in would come mamma or nurse, seize it, cover it with endearments, and effectually break up 164 BABIES AND THEIR RIGHTS. its tranquillity. Then, the next time, when these thoughtless people wanted it to be quiet, they were surprised that it refused to be so. It is habit and training which make little children restless and fretful, rather than natural disposition, in a multitude of cases. A healthy babe, coolly and loosely dressed, judiciously fed, and frequently bathed, will be good and comfortable if it have not too much atten- tion. But when it is liable a dozen times a day to be caught wildly up, bounced and jumped about, smothered with kisses, poked by facetious fingers, and petted till it is thoroughly out of sorts, what can be expected of it? How would fathers and mothers endure the martyrdom to which they allow the babies to be subjected ? Another right which every baby has is to its own mother's care and supervision. The mother may not be strong enough to hold her child and carry it about, to go with it on its outings, and to person- ally attend to all its wants. Yery often it is really better for both mother and child that the strong arms of an able-bodied woman should bear it through its months of helplessness. Still, no matter how apparently worthy of trust a nurse or servant may be, unless she have been tried and proved by long and faithful service and friendship, a babe is too precious to be given unreservedly to her care. The mother herself,' or an elder sister or auntie, should hover protectingly near the tiny creature, whose life-long happiness may depend on the way its babyhood is passed. "Who has not seen in the city parks the beautifully-dressed infants, darlings evidently of homes of wealth and refinement, left to bear the beams of the sun and stings of gnats and flies, while the nurses gossiped together, oblivious of the flight of time ? Mothers are often quick to resent stories of the neglect or cruelty of their employees, and cannot be made to believe that their own children are sufferers. And the children are too young to speak. The lover of little ones can almost always see the subtle dif- 165 BABIES AND TBEIR RIGHTS. ference which exists between the babies whom mothers care for^ and the babies who are left to hirelings. The former have a sweeter, shyer, gladder look than the latter. Perhaps the babies- who are born, so to speak, with silver spoons in their mouths, are better off than those who came to the heritage of a gold spoon. The gold spooners have lovely cradles and vassinets. They wear Valenciennes lace and embroidery, and fashion dictates the cut of their bibs, and the length of their flowing robes. They are waited upon by bonnes in picturesque aprons and caps, and the doctor is- sent for whenever they have the colic. The little silver-spooners, on the ether hand, are arrayed in simple slips, which the mother made herself in dear, delicious hours, the sweetest in their mystic joy which happy womanhood knows. They lie on the sofa, or on two- chairs with a pillow placed carefully to hold them, while she sings at. her work, spreads the snowy linen on the grass, moulds the bread, and shells the peas. The mother's hands wash and dress them, the- father rocks them to sleep, the proud brothers and sisters carry them to walk, or wheel their little wagons along the pavement. Tortu- nate babies of the silver spoon ! Alas and alack! for the babies who have never a spoon at all, not even a horn or a leaden one. Their poor parents love them, amid the squalid circumstances which hem them in, but they can do little- for their well-being, and they die by hundreds in garrets and cellars and close tenement rooms. When the rich and charitable shall devise some way to care for the babies of the poor, when New York shall imitate Paris in founding an institution akin to La Creche, we shall have taken a long step forward in the direction of social and moral elevation. 166 Jane Ellis Hofkinb. 'HE clock strikes seven in the hall, The curfew of the children's day, That calls each little pattering foot From dance and song and lively play ; Their day that in a wider light Floats like a silver day-moon white, Nor in our darkness sinks to rest, But sets within a golden west. Ah, tender hour that sends a drift Of children's kisses through the house. And cuckoo notes of sweet " Good night," That thoughts of heaven and home arouse. And a soft stir to sense and heart, As when the bee and blossom part ; And little feet that patter slower, Like the last droppings of a shower And in the children's room aloft, What blossom shapes do gaily slip Their daily sheaths, and rosy run From clasping hand and kissing lip, A naked sweetness to the eye — Blossom and babe and butterfly In witching one, so dear a sight ! An ecstacy of life and light. 167 TSE GHILDEBN'S BED-TIME. Then lily-drest, in angel white, To mother's knee they trooping come. The soft palms fold like kissing shells, And they and we go singing home — Their bright heads bowed and worshiping, As though some glory of the spring, Some daffodil that mocks the day, Should fold his golden palms and pray. The gates of paradise swing wide A moment's space in soft accord, And those dread angels, Life and Death, A moment vail the flaming sword, As o'er this weary world forlorn From Eden's secret heart is borne That breath of Pfiradise most fair, Which mothers call " the children's prayer.' Then kissed, on beds we lay them down. As fragrant white as clover'd sod, And all the upper floors grow hushed "With children's sleep, and dews of God. And as our stars their beams do hide. The stars of twilight, opening wide, Take up the heavenly tale at even, And light us on to God and heaven. That man lives twice that lives the first life well. — Robert Serrick^ 168 THE EYEHIia PRAYER. flpl'll [LL day the children's busy feet sM i Had pattered to and fro ; § And all the day their little hands Had been in mischief so, — That oft my patience had been tried; But tender, loving care Had kept them through the day from harm, And safe from ev'ry snare. But when the even-tide had come, The children went up-stairs, And knelt beside their little beds, To say their wonted prayers. With folded hands and rev'rent mien, " Our Father," first they say. Then, " N"ow I lay me down to sleep," "With childlike faith they pray. With cheeks upon the pillow pressed, They give a kiss, and say, — " Good-night ; we love you, dear mamma. You've been so kind to-day." " Dood-night ; ' I love oo, too, mamma," And baby's eyelids close ; And tired feet and restless hands Enjoy the sweet repose. 169 SOME AND ITS QUEEN. f The trouble and the weariness To me indeed seemed light, Since love bad thus my eft'orts crowned To guide their steps aright. And as I picked the playthings up, And put the books away, My heart gave grateful thanks to God, For His kiud care all day. — Anonymous, HOME MD ITS QUEEI* HERE is probably not an unperverted man or woman liv- ing, who does not feel that the sweetest conso^ations and best rewards of life are found in the loves and delights ot home. There are very few who do not feel themselves indebted to the influences that clustered around their cradles for what- ever good there may be in their characters and condition. Home, based upon Christian marriage, is so evident an institution of God, that a man must become profane before he can deny it. Wherever it is pure and true to the Christian idea, there lives an institution conservative of all the nobler instincts of society. Of this realm woman is the queen. It takes the cue and hue from her. If she is in the best sense womanly — if she is true and tender, loving and heroic, patient and self-devoted — she consciously and unconsciously organizes and puts in operation a set of influences that do more to mould the destiny of the nation than any man, uncrowned by power of eloquence, can possibly effect. The men of the nation are what mothers make them, as a rule ; and the voice 170 COMING BOME FROM SCHOOL. that those men speak in the expression of power, is the voice of the woman who bore and bred them. There can be no substitute for this. There is no other possible way in which the women of the nation can organize their influence and power that will tell so bene- ficially upon society and the state. — Soribner's Monthly. COHIHa HOME FROM SCHOOL. Miss F. Q. Bkowhino. ■^^M.A.R'K ! what peals of merry laughter =:#.IvmI. Greet us from the village lane, As from school the happy children To their homes come back again. During all the morning hours They have said their " A-B-0," Or have puzzled o'er the tangled Numbers in the " rule of three." Sunny faces have been shadowed, Bright eyes dimmed by coming tears ; Little timid hearts have struggled With the phantom-form of fears. But the dreaded tasks are over, All their tears are wiped away : Timid hearts again are hopeful, Shadowed faces bright and gay. 171 COMING MO ME FROM SCHOOL. Down the village-lane they gambol, Rustling thro' the withered leaves, While the sunbeams play about them, And each cheek a kiss receives. Bonny lads, with rosy faces, Clothed in jackets brown and gray ; Dainty sacques of blue and scarlet, Make the lassies warm and gay : With their satchels filled with chestnnts, Or with apples red and gold ; Luncheon-baskets filled with acorns, — More than tiny hands can hold : Come the happy, laughing children. In the even clear and cool ; To a mother's heart of welcome They are coming home from schooL Ah ! the world has many children Who are sitting day by day Bending over tasks so tangled. Wearing their sad lives away. With their tear-dimmed eyes turned evcsp Toward the windows in the West, And their weary hearts so anxious For the eventide of rest. But the golden, crimson halos. Of the glorious setting sun. Will illume those shadowed faces When the study hours are done. 173 TO OVR GIRLS. They will close the books of trial With the blots upon the leaves, And will turn their footsteps homeward ; Bearing with them ripened sheaves. Some have learned life's puzzled import. Practiced well the "golden rule," — In our Father's many mansions. They, at last, are home from school. To Adam, Paradise was home. To the good among his de. Bcendants, home is paradise. — Henry Ware, D.D. TO OUR aiRLS. Makt F. Lathrop. 'HE pastor of a church in one of our large cities said to me not long ago : " I have officiated at forty weddings since I came here, and in every case, save one, I felt that the bride was running an awful risk." Young men of bad habits and fast tendencies never marry girls of their own sort, but demand a wife above suspicion. So pure, sweet women, kept from the touch of evil through the j'ears of their girlhood, give themselves, with all their costly dower of womanhood, into the keeping of men who, in base associations, have learned to undervalue all that belongs to them, and then find no time for repentance in the sad after years. There is but one way out of this that I can see, and that is for you 173 A FLEA FOR THE BOY. — the young women of the country — to require in association and marriage, purity for purity, sobriety for sobriety, and honor for honor. There is no reason why the young men of this Christian land should not be just as virtuous as its young women, and if the loss of your society and love be the price they are forced to pay for vice, they will not pay it. I admit with sadness that not all of our young women are capable of this high standard for themselves or others ; too often from the hand of reckless beauty has the tempta- tion to drink come to men ; but I believe there are enough of earnest, thoughtful girls in the society of our country to work won- ders in the temperance reform, if fully aroused. Dear girls, will you help us in the name of Christ ? "W^ill you, first of all, be so true to yourselves and God, so pure in your inner and outer life, that you shall have a right to ask that the young men with whom you asso- ciate, and especially those you marry, shall be the same ? The awful gulf of dishonor is close beside your feet, and in it fathers, brothers, lovers, and sons are going down. Will you not help us in our great work? A PLEA FOR THE BOY. ' HE boy is an offense in himself. He must have something to do, and as his hands are idle the proverbial provider of ^^ occupation for idle hands is always ready with instructions for him. A boy makes noise in utter defiance of the laws of acoustics. Shoe him in velvet, and carpet your house as you will, your boy shall make such a hubbub with his heels as no watchman's rattle ever gave forth. Doors in his hands always shut with a violence which jars the whole house, and he is certain to acquire each day the art of screaming or whistling in some wholly new and excruciating 174 A. PLEA FOR THE BOY. way. Loving his mother so violently that his caresses derange her attire and seriously endanger her bones, ready to die in her defense if need be, he nevertheless torments her from morning to night, and allows her no possible peace until slumber closes his throat and eye- lids, and deprives his hands and feet of their demoniac cunning. In public your ooy is equally a nuisance. Collectively or indi- vidually he offends the public in the streets. "Whatever he does is. sure to be wrong. He monopolizes space and takes to himself all the air there is for acoustical purposes. Your personal peculiarities- interest him, and with all the frankness of his soul he comments, upon your appearance, addressing his remarks to his fellow on the^ next block. Nevertheless the boy ha„ his uses. He is the material out of which men are to be made for the next generation. He is not a. bad fellow, — that is to say, he is not intentionally or consciously bad. There are springs in his limbs which keep him in perpetual motion,^ and, the devil of uproar of which he is possessed utters the ear- piercing sounds which annoy his elders, but the utterances of which he can no more restrain than he can keep his boot^ or trousers from wearing out. In a ten-acre lot, well away from the house, the boy is a picturesque and agreeable person ; it is only when one must come into closer contact with him that his presence causes suffering- and suggests a statue to King Herod. It is in cities that the boy makes himself felt most disagreeably, and we fancy that the fault is, not altogether his. As the steam which bursts boilers would be a perfectly harmless vapor but for the sTiarp restraint that is put upon it, so the effervescent boy becomes dangerous to social order only when he is confined, when an effort is made to compress him into- smaller space than the law of his expansive being absolutely requires. We send him upon the war-path by encroaching upon his hunting- grounds ; we drive him into hostility by treating him as a public; 175 A PLEA FOR THE SOT. enemy. In most of our dealings with liim in cities, our effort is to suppress him, and it is an unwise system. If his ball-playing in the streets becomes an annoyance, we simply forbid ball-playing in the streets, and it is an inevitable consequence that, deprived of his ball, he will throw stones at street lamps or at policemen. What else is he to do ? In Brooklyn, for example, whose streets are long and wide, there was thought to be room enough for boys, and the inspiring rnmble of the velocipede was heard there until somebody objected, when straightway the policemen were directed to arrest all machines of that character, whether with two, thi-ee, or four wheels, found upon sidewalks. iN^ow this order we held was not only cruel, but it was unwise as well. Without a doubt the velocipedes were a source of serious annoyance in crowded thoroughfares, but they are not so in streets in which pedestrians are few, as they are in fully one-half of Brooklyn's thoroughfares. Yelocipede riding might have been forbidden in the main thoroughfares, and permitted in less frequented oi^es, and the boy would have been content ; to forbid it where it offends nobody — merely for the sake of preventing it where it does offend — ^is illogical and unjust, and, worse still, it is unwise. The boy cannot be banished or confined, and, lacking his velocipede, he will resort to something more annoying still. What it will be we do not pretend to guess, but for its capacity to annoy we may safely trust to the boy's ingenuity. Speaking in all seriousness, it is not well to suppress the sports of boys from which they derive strength and health and manly vigor of body. We may and must regulate these things ; but mere sup- pression is a crude and tyrannical method of dealing with them. In Boston, a city of notions, whose notions are sometimes surprisingly wise and good, care is taken to give the boys room. A sport which becomes annoying is not suppressed, but is given ample room in 176 WSAT I LIVE FOR. places where it will annoy least ; and when, for example, certain streets are publicly set apart for coasting, as they are in Boston every winter, the police have no difficulty in preventing coasting elsewhere. The boy who may ride his sled or his velocipede to his heart's content in one street will not care to intrude upon another. We need to adopt a like system in our larger cities. The boys must have room in which to exercise and grow. If we do not give it to them in one place they will take it in another, to our sore incon- venience. — New York Even ing Post. WHAT I LIYE FOR. &. E. Bankb. LIVE for those who love me, For those I know are true, For the heaven that smiles above me, And awaits my spirit too ; For aU human ties that bind me, For the task by God assigned me, For the bright hopes left behind me. And the good that I can do. I live to learn their story, Who've suffered for my sake,. To emulate their glory. And follow in their wake ; Bards, martyrs, patriots, sages, The noblest of all ages, Whose deeds crowd history's pages And Time's great volume make. 177 WE LIVE IN DEEDS, NOT TEARS. I live to hail that season By gifted minds foretold, When men shall live by reason And not alone by gold — When man to man united, And every wrong thing righted, The whole world shall be lighted, As Eden was of old. I live to hold communion With all that is divine, To feel there is a union 'Twixt Nature's heart and mine ; To profit by affliction, Eeap truths from fields of fiction. Grow wiser from conviction. And fulfill each great design. I live for those who love me. For those who know me true, For the heaven that smiles above me, And awaits my spirit too ; For the wrong that needs resistance. For the cause that lacks assistance. For the future in the distance, And the good that I can do. ''E live in deeds, not years ; in thoughts, not breaths ; In feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives. Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best. — Bailey. 178 CHILDREH OF THE RICH MD POOH COHTHASTSD* Jambs Etjssell Lowell. 'HE rich man's son inherits lands, And piles of brick, and stone and gold, And he inherits soft white hands, And tender flesh that fears the cold, 'Nov dares to wear a garment old : A heritage, it seems to me. One scarce would wish to hold in fee. The rich man's son inherits cares, — The bank may break, the factory, burn, A breath may burst his bubble shares ; And soft white hands could hardly earn A living that would serve his turn : A heritage, it seems to me. One scarce would wish to hold in fee,. What doth the poor man's son inherit? Stout muscles and a sinewy heart, A hardy frame, a hardier spirit ; King of two hands, he does his part In every useful toil and art : A heritage, it seems to me, A king might wish to hold in fee. What doth the poor man's son inherit ? A patience learned of being poor, K 179 BE KIND, BOYS. Courage, if sorrow comes, to bear it, A fellow feeling tliat is sure To make the outcast bless his door : A heritage, it seems to me, A king might wish to hold in fee. Both, heirs to some six feet of sod, Are equal in the earth at last. Both, children of the same dear God, Prove title to your heirship vast By records of a well-filled past ; A heritage it seems to me. Well worth a life to hold in fee. BE KIHD, BOYS. HOEACB MAKN. n|^^S2 OU are made to be kind, boys, generous, magnanimous. If there is a boy in school who has a club foot, don't let him ^f^ know you ever saw it. If there is a poor boy with ragged clothes, don't talk about rags in his hearing. If there is a lame boy, assign him some part of the game which does not require running. If there is a hungry one, give him part of your dinner. If there is a dull one, help him to get his lesson. If there is a bright one, be not envious of him ; for if one boy is proud of his talents, and another is envious of them, there are two great wrongs, and no more talent than before. If a larger or stronger boy has injured you, and is sorry for it, forgive him. All the school will show by their countenances how much better it is than to have a great fist. 180 GOOD HAHIERS. I^^^T has been said, that a " man's manners form his fortune." Whether this be really so or not, it is certain that his man- ners form his reputation — stamp upon him, as it were, his current worth in the circles where he moves. If his manners are the products of a kind heart, they will please, though they be destitiite of graceful polish. There is scarcely anything of more importance to a child of either sex, than good breeding. If parents and teachers perform their duties to the young faithfully, there will be comparatively few destitute of good manners. Yisit a family where the parents are civil and courteous toward all within their household, whether as dwellers or as guests, and your children will learn good manners, just as they learn to talk, from imitation. But reverse the order of things concerning parents and the children learn ill manners, just as in the former case thej learn good manners, by imitation. Train children to behave at home as you would have them act abroad. It is almost certain, that they, while children, conduct themselves abroad as they would have been in the habit of doing under like circumstances when at home. " Be courteous," is an iipostolic injunction, which all should ever remember and obey. Finally, "be ye all of one mind, having compassion one of another, love as brethren, be pitifal, be courteous." 1 Peter, iii. 8. ^-Anonymous. Good manners are made of petty sacrifices. — B. W. Emerson. 181 KIID MAMBRS AT HOME. j HERE are many families, the members of whicli are, without doubt, dear to each other. If sickness or sudden trouble falls on one, all are afflicted, and make haste to sympathize, $ help, and comfort. But in their daily life and ordinary inter- 1 course there is not only no expression of affection, none of the pleasant and fond behavior that has, perhaps, little dignity, but which more than makes up for that in its sweetness ; but there is an. absolute hardness of language and actions which is shocking to every sensitive and tender feeling. Between father and mother, and brother and sister, pass rough and hasty words ; yes, and angry words, far more frequently than words of endearment. To see and hear them,, one would think that they hated, instead of loved each other. It does not seem to have entered into their heads that it is their duty, as it should be their best pleasure, to do and say all that they possi- bly can for each other's good and happiness. " Each one for himself, and bad luck take the hindermost." The father orders and growls, the mother frets, complains, and scolds, the children snap, snarl, and whine, and so goes the day. Alas for it, if this is a type of heaven ! — as " the family" is said to be — at least, it is said to be the nearest thing to heaven of anything on earth. But the spirit of selfishness, of violence, render it more like the other place — yes, and this too often, even when all the members of the household are members of the Church. "Where you see — when you know it — one family where love and gentleness reign, you see ten where they only make visits, and this among Christian families as well as others. 182 KIND MANNERS AT BO ME. Now, it is a sad and melanclioly thing to " sit solitary " in life, but give me a cave in the bowels of earth, give me a lodge in any ■waste, howling wilderness, where foot nor face of human being ever came, rather than an abode with parents, friends, or kindred, in which I must hear or utter language which causes pain, or where I must see conduct which is not born of love. JN^o wealth, no advan- tage of any kind, would induce me to live with people whose inter- course was of such a nature. The dearer they were to me, the less would I remain among them, if they did not do all they could to make each other happy. With mere strangers one might endure, ■even under such circumstances, to remain for a time ; for what they say or do has but limited effect upon one's feelings ; but how mem- bers of the same family, children of the same parents, can remain together, year after year, when every day they hear quarreling, if they do not join in it, and when hard words fly on all sides of them, thick as hail, and the very visitors in their house are rendered uncomfortable by them, is indeed a mystery. " Count life by virtues ; tliese will last When life's lame, foiled, race is o'er ; And these, when earthly joys are past. Shall cheer us on a brighter shore." — Anonymous. ^Sj^ fUR lives are albums written through ^1 With good or ill, with false or true ; And as the blessed angels turn The pages of our years, God grant they read the good with smiles And blot the ill with tears. — John G. Whittier (in an album). 183 RELIGIOUS FAMILY LIFE. EbV. C. H. PAEKHtmST, D.D.* ^HE family is the first institution, and lies at the basis of everything that is good in society. All the best possibili- ties of society commence to unfold themselves at the hearth- stone. This being so, we can only regard with exceeding anxiety any indications that the home is losing its mean- ing and power. There are many grounds of encouragement and discouragement as well, and one of these is just this decay of family life. The family does not mean what it did fifty or even thirty years ago. Some of us who are adults feel to-day the solidifying effects of those early years of ours. Social usages drive the rude share through the soil of the home, and tear and strain the tender roots that are trying to toughen and extend themselves there. In this way the relation between the child and the mother is weakened. I hear a great deal said by mothers in regard to the heavy tax that society lays upon them. I wish I could see, in general, more signs that their families are a continual tax upon them. Mothers, with their social engagements, are wearing themselves nearly to the extremity of their strength, and giving to their children the fag end of interest and affection, and it is clear enough why the attach- ment of the children to the home falters and family life breaks down. Mothers farm their children out to the nurse, physically, intel- lectually, and morally. God and nature intended that mothers should take care of their own children. Women complain that they have not the strength to do so. "Women used to have, and there is nothing to hinder their having it again if they will live as * Pastor Madison Square Presbyterian Church, N. T., Week of Prayer Service, 1883. 184 RELIGIOUS FAMILY LIFE. they ought to, and be as respectful to the laws of nature as most of our mothers were. The fathers are also chargeable with similar fault. With them it is the club-room that usurps the place of the home. Of course there are other places which fathers frequent and other engagements which engross the interest and the regard that is due to the home circle. I mention the club for example's sake. I think that the club, as ordinarily constituted, is a device of the devil for under- mining the stability of the home, chilling its temperature and breaking its power. I do not believe there is a live business man among us who, when his daily duties are discharged, has any more time left him than is due to his wife and children. It is a sad moment for a child when he begins to suspect that there is anywhere in the world a dearer, sweeter place than home ; and mothers immersed in society, and fathers steeped in the club, are starting that suspicion in their children and fostering it every day of life. He is an unhappy man who cannot look back to the home of his childhood as to a center around which everything gathered, the axis upon which the whole world turned. Reference is made to the evil effects produced upon the young by skeptical teaching and infidel literature. It is with boys as it is with trees in a storm, a question of root and fibre ; and warm Christian homes are just the manufactories which God has expressly set up for the production of root and fibre, personal stamina and tensity. Infidelity in the world will not hreak down the boy whom faith inside the home has huilt up. A GREAT many homes are like the frame of a harp that stands without strings. In form and outline they suggest music ; but no melody rises from the empty spaces ; and thus it happens that home is unattractive, dreary and dull. W. H. H. Mueeat. 185 A CHEERFUL HOME. |[ SINGLE bitter word may disquiet an entire family for a 1| whole day. One surly glance casts a gloom over the house- hold, while a smile, like a gleam of sunshine, may light up the darkest and weariest hours. Like unexpected flowers, which spring up along our path, full of freshness, fragrance and beauty, do kind words and gentle acts and sweet dispositions, make glad the home where peace and blessing dwell. No matter how humble the abode, if it be thus garnished with grace and sweet- ened with kindness and smiles, the heart will turn lovingly toward it from all the tumult of the world, will be the dearest spot beneath the ■circuit of the sun. And the influences of home perpetuate themselves. The gentle grace of the mother lives in the daughter long after her head is piUowed in the dust of death ; and the fatherly kindness finds its echo in the nobility and courtesy of sons, who come to wear his mantle and to fill his place ; while, on the other hand, from an un- happy, misgoverned, and disordered home, go forth persons who shall make other homes miserable, and perpetuate the sourness and sad- ness, the contentions and strifes and railings which have made their own early lives so wretched and distorted. Toward the cheerful home, the children gather " as clouds and as doves to their windows," while from the home which is the abode of discontent and strife and trouble, they fly forth as vultures to rend their prey. The class of men who disturb and distress the world, are not 186 THE FARMER' S HOME. those born and nurtured amid the hallowed influences of Christian liomes ; but rather those whose early hfe has been a scene of trouble and vexation, — who have started wrong in the pilgrimage, and whose course is one of disaster to themselves, and trouble to those around them. — Friend) s Intelligencer. THE FARMER^S HOME. William H. YEOMA^sfs. EBSTER defines home as a " dwelling-place," but it admits of a broader meaning. There are brilliant and elegant J^^p homes. Some are wise, thrifty and careful, and others are |xW warm and genial, by whose glowing hearths any one, at any ?! time, may find enough and to spare. There are bright homes and gloomy homes. There are homes that hurry and bustle through years of incessant labor, until one and another of the inmates fall, like the falling leaves, and the homes turn to dust. We do not say the dairymaid's home compares with this last view. Science has done much to remove the drudgery in our homes, introducing ease and comfort. An ideal home must first have a government, but love must be the dictator. All the members should unite to make home iappy. We should have light in our homes, heaven's own pure, transparent light. It matters not whether home is clothed in blue and purple, if it is only brimful of love, smiles, and gladness. Our boards should be spread with everything good and enjoya- ble. We should have birds, flowers, pets, everything suggestive of sociability. Flowers are as indispensable to the perfections of a home as to the perfections of a plant. Do not give them all the sunniest windows and pleasantest corners, crowding out the children. 187 ROME MEMORIES. If you cannot have a large conservatory, have a small one. Give- your children pets, so that by the care and attention bestowed upon them they may learn the habits of animals. Of the ornamentation about a house, although a broad lake lends a charm to the scenery, it cannot compare with the babbling brook. As the little streamlet goes tumbling over the rocks and along the shallow, pebbly bed, it may be a marvellous teacher to the children,, giving them lessons of enterprise and perseverance. In our homes we must have industry and sympathy. In choos- ing amusements for the children, the latter element must be brought, in. To fully understand the little ones, you must sympathize with them. "When a child asks questions, do not meet it with, " Oh, don't bother me." Tell it all it wants to know. JSTever let your angry passions rise, no matter how much you may be tried. For full and intelligent happiness in the home circle, a library of the best works is necessary. Do not introduce the milk and water fiction of the present day, but books of character. Our homes should have their Sabbaths and their family altars. Around these observances cling: many of the softest and most sacred memories of our lives. HOME MEMORIES. Thomas Hooa I EEMEMBEK, I remember, |r The house where I was bom, ^ The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn. He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day ; 188 BOMB MEMOBIES. But now I often wish the night Had borne my breath away I I remember, I remember, The roses, red and white, The violets and the lily-cnps, — Those flowers made of light ! The lilacs where the robin built, And where my brother set The laburnum on his birthday — The tree is living yet ! I remember, I remember. Where I was used to swing. And thought the air must rush as fresh To swallows on the wing ; My spirit flew in feathers then, That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow ! I remember, I remember, The fir-trees dark and high ; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky. It was a childish ignorance, But now 'tis little joy To know I'm farther off from heaven Than when I was a boy. 189 m? smams m the family. (,ULTIVATE singing in your family. Begin when the child is not yet three years old. The songs and hymns your ^'IP' childhood sang, bring them all back to your memory, and f||? teach them to your little ones ; mix them all together to meet the varying moods as in after life they come over us so myste- riously at times. Many a time, in the very whirl of business, in the sunshine and gayety of the avenue, amid the splendor of the drive in the park, some little thing wakes up the memories of early youth — the old mill, the cool spring, the shady tree by the little school-house —and the next instant we almost see again the ruddy cheeks, the smiling faces, and the merry eyes of schoolmates, some of whom are gray-headed now, while most have passed from amid earth's weary noises. And, anon, " the song my mother sang " springs unbidden to the lips, and soothes and sweetens all these memories. At other limes, amid the crushing mishaps of business, a merry ditty of the olden time breaks in upon the ugly train of thought, and throws the mind in another channel ; light breaks from behind the cloud in the sky, and new courage is given us. The honest man goes gladly to his work ; and when, the day's labor done, his tools are laid aside and he is on his way home, where wife and child and the tidy table and cheery fireside await him, how can he but have music in his heart to break forth so often into the merry whistle or the jocund song? Moody silence, not the merry song, weighs down the dishonest tradesman, the perfidious clerk, the unfaithful servant, the perjured partner. 190 ART IN TSE' FAMILY. " We accord," says a gentleman who has written much, " our unqualified indorsement of the above ; and even now, although we have passed our three-score years, the songs of our youth are often resurrected, and we love to hum them over again, and often do so, in the lone hours of the night, when there are none to hear save our- self and the drowsy ' gray spiders on the wall ; ' and while doing so,. we feel less inclined toward ' treason, stratagem and spoils,' than at any other hour within the twenty-four. "We fondly look back to the days when we were as musical as a hand-organ — and perhaps as ' cracked ' as many of them, too— those days when we so lightly touched the keys to the measure of the songs we sang. "We often regret time, circumstance and advancing years have so effectually quieted our vocal muse ; still we revert to the ballads of yore, and mentally exclaim. ' Sing me the songs that to me were so dear. Long, long ago ; long, long ago.' " -Anonymous. ART 11 THB FAMILY. f'T has been said that there is sure to be contentment in a home. If- in the windows of which can be seen birds or flowers ; and it may also be added that there will be the same conditions wherever there are pictures .on the walls. It is, of course, not every one who is a judge of art, but even a contemplation of art will educate, and it is safe to say that a man cannot have a paint- ing in his room and see it day after day without sooner or later begin- ning to be able to tell its merits or defects, and thus being better fitted to judge of others in the future. The engravings and chromes seen in 191 ART IN THE FAMILY. the homes of the poor may, if measured by the critical rules of art, be wretched daubs, but they at least show a longing and an aspira- tion after beauty, while their presence hfelps to produce a repose of mind, and brings nothing with it but good. The loving manner in which children linger over pictures tells how deeply this feeling is implanted in the heart, and long before they can read, their dawning powers are gradually being strengthened by these silent educators. Nor is the influence which flowers have, any less than that of paintings. At all seasons of the year they are gladly welcomed. They are emblematic of both the joys and sorrows of life, and religion has associated them with the highest spiritual verities. Faded although they sometimes may be, they have the power to wake the chords of memory and make us children again. At the sick-bed and the marriage feast, on the altar and the cathedral walls, they have a meaning, and the humblest home looks brighter where they bloom. A few years ago, at horticultural societies in England, prizes were offered to villagers for the best efforts in cottage gar- dening, and the result was that a great change came over the home-life of the people. Instead of gardens filled with rank grass and weeds, there could be seen flaming hollyhocks, blood-red roses and purple geraniums, and a spirit of friendly rivalry and emulation was created, leading to improvements in households, and aiding habits of cleanliness and industry. Let any one walk through our markets on these bright spring mornings and watch how tenderly some poor seamstress wiU linger over a tiny flower and bear it away proudly to cheer the loneliness of her scantily furnished room, and he will admit that if such a little thing can bring pleasure or satisfaction, every effort made to improve the taste of the masses and lead them to make home pleasant is to be commended as weakening the influ- ence of evil and diffusing a power which will prove a potent factor for good. — Baltimore American. 193 COHYERSATIOI. ll^^fMONG home airiTisements the best is the good old habit ol conversation, the talking over the events of the day, in bright and quick play of wit or fancy, the story which brings I aT the laugh, and the speaking the good and kind and true things, which all have in their hearts. It is not so much by dwelling upon what members of the family have in common, as bringing •each to the other something interesting and amusing, that liome life is to be made cheerful and joyous. Each one must do his part to make conversation genial and happy. We are ready to converse with newspapers and books, to seek some companion at the store, hotel, or club-room, and to forget that home is anything more than a place to sleep and eat in. The revival of conversation, the entertainment of one another, as a roomful of people will entertain themselves, is one secret of a happy home. Wherever it is wanting, disease has struck into the root of the tree ; there is a want which is felt with increasing force as time goes on. Conversation, in many cases, is just what prevents many people from relapsing into utter selfishness at their firesides. This conversation should not simply occupy hus- band and wife, and other older members of the family, but extend it- self to the children. Parents should be careful to talk with them, to enter into their life, to share their trifles, to assist in their studies, to meet them in the .thoughts, and feelings of their childhood. It is a great step in education, when around the evening lamp are gathered the different members of a family, sharing their occupation with one another — ^the older assisting the younger, each one contributing to the entertainment of the other, .^■-id all feeling that the evening has 193 SPEAK CBEERFUL W R B S . passed only too rapidly away. This is the truest and best amuse- ment. It is the healthy education of great and noble characters. There is the freedom, the breadth, the joyousness of natural life. The time spent thus by parents, in the higher entertainment of their children, bears a harvest of eternal blessings, and these long evenings- furnish just the time. — Churchman. SPEAK CHEERFUL WORDS. - HY is it that so many people keep all their pleasant thoughts and kind words about a man bottled and sealed until he ^r- is dead, when they come and break the bottle over his coffin, and bathe his shroud in fragrance ? Many a man goes through life with scarcely one bright, cheerful, encouraging, hopeful word. He toils hard and in lowly obscurity. He gives- out his life freely and unstintedly for others. I remember such a man. He was not brilliant ; he was not great ; but he was faithful. He had many things to discourage him. Troubles thickened about his life. He was misrepresented and misunderstood. Everybody believed that he was a good man, but no one ever said a kindly word or pleasant thing to him. He never heard a compliment, scarcely ever a good wish. No one ever took any pains to encourage him, to strengthen, his feeble knees, to lighten his burdens, or to lift up his heart by a gentle deed of love, or by a cheerful word. He was neglected. Unkind things were often said of him. I stood at his coffin, and then there were many tongues to speak his praise. There was not a breath of aspersion in the air. Men spoke of self-denial — of his work among the poor, of his quietness,,, modesty, his humility, his pureness of heart, his faith and prayer. 194 JYONS LtVEtB TO HIMSELF. There were many who spoke indignantly of the charges that falsehood had forged against him in past years, and of the treatment he had received. There were enough kind things said during the two or three days that he lay in his coffin, and while the company stood around his open grave, to have blessed him and made him happy all his fifty years, and to have thrown sweetness and joy about his soul during all his painful and weary journey. There was enough sunshine wasted about the black coffin and dark grave to have made his whole life-path bright as the clearest day. But his ears were closed then, and could not hear a word that was spoken. His heart was still then, and could not be thrilled by the grateful sounds. He cared nothing then for the sweet flowers that were piled upon his coffin. The love blossomed out too late. The kindness came when the life could not receive its blessings. — Anonymous, KOHE LIYETH TO HIMSELF. ^ ^Sf OD-has written upon the flower that sweetens the air, upon the breeze that rocks the flower upon its stem, upon the A* rain-drops that swell the mighty river, upon the dew-drops ^ ^ that refresh the smallest sprig of moss that rears its head in the desert, upon the ocean that rocks every swimmer in its channel, upon every penciled shell that sleeps in the caverns of the deep, as well as upon the mighty sun which warms and cheers the millions of creatures that live in his light — upon all he has written, " ISTone of us liveth to himself." — Anonymous. 195 ^Mm SPEAK A GOOD WORD. Iff you say anything about a neighbor or friend, or even a 1 1^ stranger, say no ill. It is a Christian and brotherly charity to suppress our knowledge of evil of one another, unless our liigher public duty compels us to bear accusing v^itness. And ^^ if it be true charity to keep our hnowledge of such evils to our- selves, much more should we refuse to spread evil report of one another. Discreditable as the fact is, it is by far the commonest ten- dency to suppress the good -we know of our neighbors and friends. We act in this matter as though we felt that by pushing our fellows down or back a peg we were putting ourselves up and forward. We are jealous of commendation unless we get the larger share. Social conversation, as known to every observer, is largely made up of what is best understood by the term scandal. It would be difficult to find a talkative group, of either sex, who could spend an evening or an hour together without evil speech of somebody. " Blessed are the peace-makers," is not the maxim by which we are chiefly governed in our treatment of personalities. Better a thousand times, stand or sit dumb than to open oiir lips never so eloquently in the disparage- ment of others. What we should do in this, as in all our human relations, is to practice the Golden Rule. If we do unto others as we would that others should do unto us, we shall be exceedingly careful not to volunteer ill words about them. When other than a good word is to be spoken, let it be spoken to the person concerned, that he may know your motive is not idle, cowardly and sinister, and that he may have a chance to defend himself — Anonymous. 196 SMILES. Mes. Btteh. ^F people will only, notice, they will be amazed to find how much a really enjoyable evening owes to smiles. But few consider what an important symbol of fine intellect and fine feeling they are. Yet all smiles, after childhood, are things of education. Savages do not smile ; coarse, brutal, cruel men may laugh, but they seldom smile. The affluence, the benediction, the radiance, which Fills tlie silence like a speech, is the smile of a full appreciative heart. The face that grows finer as it listens, and then breaks into sun- shine instead of words, has a subtle, charming influence, universally felt, though very seldom understood or acknowledged. Personal and sarcastic remarks show not only a bad heart and a bad head, but bad taste also. ISTow, society may tolerate a bad heart and a bad head, but it will not endure bad taste; and it is in just such points as this that the conventional laws which they have made, represent and enforce real obligations. There are many who would not cease from evil speak- ing because it is wrong, who yet restrain themselves because it is vulgar. Lord Bacon tells of a nobleman whom he knew — a man who gave lordly entertainments, but always sufifered some sarcastic personality to " mar a good dinner," adding, " Discretion of speech is more than eloquence ; and to speak agreeably to him with whom we deal is more than to speak in good words ; for he that hath a satirical vein, making others afraid of his wit, hath need to be afraid of another's memory." 197 JOY BRIHCERS. '*^fe OME men move through life as a band of music moves down IT the street, flinging out pleasure on every side through the ^•^ air to every one, far and near, that can listen. Some men till the air with their presence and sweetness, as orchards in October days fill the air with the perfume of ripe fruit. Some women cling to their own houses, like the honeysuckle over the door, yet, like it, sweeten all the region with the subtle fragrance of their goodness. There are trees of righteousness, which are ever dropping precious fruit around them. There are lives that shine like star-beams, or charm the heart like songs sung upon a holy day. ITow great a bounty and blessing it is to hold the royal gifts of the soul, so that they shall be music to some and fragrance to others, and life to all ! It would be no unworthy thing to live for, to make the power which we have within us the breath of other men's joy ; to scatter sunshine where only clouds and shadows reign ; to till the atmosphere where earth's weary toilers must stand, with a brightness which they can not create for themselves, and which they long for, enjoy and appreciate. — Anonymous. GRUMBLERS. tllERE are persons who are not satisfied in circumstances that to all but themselves seem to be the most favorable to their interests. Leigh Hunt — in one of his letters, we think — speaks of a day that could not make any creature happy but a vender of 198 LOVE TO OUR FELLOW- MEN. umbrellas. Yet a friend of ours, remembering this utterance, availed himself of a day " of never-tiring rain " to congratulate his umbrella merchant, and he secured this reply : " It's all very v^ell, sir, so far as my umbrellas are concerned, but you see I'm not selling a single parasol ! " He would have had it wet on one side of the street, and stormy upon the other, and since it was not, he was dissatisfied — a natural grumbler. — Anonymous. LOYE TO OUR FELLOW-MES. (abou ben adhem.) Leigh Hunt. li^B! -^^^ ^^"^ ADHEM, may his tribe increase, 11 Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw within the moonlight in his room. Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom. An angel, writing in a book of gold. Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in his room he said : " "What writest thou ? " The vision raised its head. And with a look, made all of sweet accord. Answered, " The names of those that love the Lord." '' And is mine one ? " said Abou. " Nay, not so," Keplied the angel. Abou spoke more low, But cheerly still, and said, " I pray thee, then, "Write me as one that loves his fellow-men." The angel wrote and vanished. The next night He came again with a great waking light. And showed the names whom love of God had blest, And, lo ! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. 199 WORDS TO BOYS. James T. Fields. WOULD beep " better hours," if I were a boy agair tbat is, I would go to bed earlier than most boys d( Nothing gives more mental and bodily vigor^ than soun rest when properly applied. Sleep is our great replenish er, an '^ if we neglect to take it regularly in childhood, all the worse fc us when we grow up. If we go to bed early, we ripen ; if w sit up late, we decay ; and sooner or later we contract a disease calle insomnia, allowing it to be permanently fixed upon us, and then w begin to decay, even in youth. Late hours are shadows from the gravi If I were a boy again, I would practise perseverance oftener, an never give up a thing because it was hard or inconvenient to do i If we want light, we must conquer darkness. When I think o mathematics I blush at the recollection of how often I "gave in years ago. There is no trait more valuable than a determination t persevere when the right thing is to be accomplished. We ai inclined to give up too easily in diiEcult or unpleasant situations, an the point I would establish with myself, if the choice was agai within my grasp, would be never to relinquish my hold on a possibl success if mortal strength or brains in my case were adequate to th occasion. That was a capital lesson which a learned Professc taught one of his students in the lecture-room after some chemicf experiment. The lights had been put out in the hall, and by ace dent some small article dropped on the floor from the Professor hand. The Professor lingered behind, endeavoring to pick it u] " Never mind," said the student, " it is of no consequence to-nigh sir, whether we find it or no." " That is true," replied the Pn 200 DOMESTIC BLISS. fessor ; " but it is of grave consequence to me, as a principle, that I am not foiled in my determination to find it." Perseverance can sometimes equal genius in its results. " There are only two crea- tures," says the Eastern proverb, "who can surmount the pyramids — the eagle and the snail." DOMESTIC BLISS. James Thomson. I APPY they, the happiest of their kind, Whom gentler stars unite, and in one fate Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend. 'Tis not the coarser tie of human laws, Unnatural oft and foreign to the mind, That binds their peace, but harmony itself, Attuning all their passions into love ; Where friendship full exerts her softest power, , Perfect esteem, enliven'd by desire Ineffable, and sympathy of soul ; Thought meeting thought, and will preventing will, With boundless confidence. J^ Y the fireside still the light is shining, The children's arms round the parents twining. From love so sweet, O, who would roam ? Be it ever so homely, home is home. — Miss MulocK 301 THE POWER OF HOME. E. S. Stoeks, D.D. LL.D. 'HE power of human attachment is as strong in American society to-day as it has ever been in the past. There is a 1^^" change, no doubt, with the more frequent removal of families from one residence to another, with the more general relations to society in which each household has come to stand, and with the earlier passage, of the sons especially, out of the parental household into homes of their own. And yet I believe that in the country at large home is, perhaps, now more attractive than it ever was before. It has more of literature, more of art, more music in it than it had ; and, while parental authority is hardly recognized, perhaps, as distinctly as it used to be, parental influence is as strong as ever ; while enforced obedience on the part of children is not as universal, filial confidence, filial aff'ection, the free service of filial liberty, have taken the place of it, to the great advantage of house- hold and community. As long as a boy is anchored to a" happy Christian home, to the experience of it in his youth and the remem- brance of it in his manhood, he is reasonably safe for this life and the next. As long as a nation is anchored to its homes, that nation is reasonably secure of a continuing, developing, and constantly more powerful spiritual force. These homes of New England and of the West, of the great Interior and of the South, are the unseen springs among the hills out of which must flow the vast, constant, command- ing currents of public moral prosperity and life. 202 THE -BRIGHT SIDE. OOK on the bright side. It is the right side. The times may be hard, but it will make them no easier to wear a gloomy and sad countenance. It is the sunshine and not the ^ ^ cloud that gives beauty to the ilower. There is always before or around us that which should cheer and fill the heart with warmth and gladness. The sky is blue ten times where it is black once. You have troubles, it may be. So have others. None are free from them ; and perhaps it is as well that none should be. They give sinew and tone to life, fortitude and courage to man. That would be a dull sea, and the sailor would never acquire skill, where there is nothing to disturb its surface. It is the duty of every one to extract all the happiness and enjoyment he can within and without him ; and ^above all, he should look on the bright side. What though things do look a little dark ? The lane will turn, and the night will end in broad day. In the long run the great balance rights itself What appears ill becomes well — ^that which appears wrong, right. Men are not always to hang down their heads or lips, and those who do, only ^how that they are departing from the paths of true common sense and right. There is more virtue in one sunbeam than in a whole hemisphere of clouds and gloom. Therefore we repeat, look on the bright side. Cultivate all that is warm and genial — not the cold and repulsive, the dark and morose. — The Interior. It is worth a thousand pounds a year to have the habit of looking on the bright side of things. — Z>r. Johnson. 203 THE EYBHISG HEARTH2T0KB. ^^M LADLY now we gather round it, ^M For the toiling day is done, And the gay and solemn twilight Follows down the golden sun. Shadows lengthen on the pavement, Stalk like giants through the glooin,. Wander past the dusky casement, Creep around the fire-lit room. Draw the curtain, close the shutters, Place the slippers by the fire ; Though the rude wind loudly mutters,, What care we for wind sprite's ire ?■ What care we for outward seeming ? Fickle fortune's frown or smile ? If around us love is beaming. Love can human ills beguile. 'Neath the cottage roof and palace, From the peasant to the king. All are quaffing from life's chalice Bubbles that enchantment bring. Grates are glowing, music flowing From the lips we love the best ; Oh, the joy, the bliss of knowing There are hearts whereon to rest ! 204 CHEERFULNESS. Hearts that throb with eager gladness — ■ Hearts that echo to our own — While grim care and haunting sadness Mingle ne'er in look or tone. Care may tread the halls of daylight, Sadness haunt the midnight hour, But the weird and witching twilight Brings the glowing hearthstone's dower. Altar of our holiest feelings ! Childhood's well-remembered shrine ! Spirit yearnings — soul revealings — Wreaths immortal round thee twine ! — Anonymous. 9|r^|"ET your cheerfdlness be felt for good wherever you are, and ^ IQe let your smiles be scattered like sunbeams " on the just as i"^T well as on the unjust." Such a disposition will yield a 5 cf rich reward, for its happy effects will come home to you and brighten your moments of thought. Cheerfulness makes the mind clear, gives tone to thought, adds grace and beauty to the countenance. Joubert says, "When you give, give with joy, smUing." Smiles are little things, cheap articles to be fraught with so many blessings, both to the giver and the receiver — ^pleasant little ripples to watch as we stand on the shore of every-day life. These are the higher and better responses of nature to the emotion of the soul. Let the children have the benefit of them — those little ones who need the sunshine of the heart to educate them, and would find 205 Ih V COURTESY AT HOME. ^ level for their buoyant nature in the cheerful, loving faces of those who need them. Let them not be kept from the middle-aged, who need the encouragement they bring. Give your smiles also to the aged. They come to them like the quiet rain of summer, making fresh and verdant the long, weary path of life. They look for them from you, who are rejoicing in the fullness of life. If your seat is hard to sit upon, stand up. If a rock rises up before you, roll it away, or climb over it. If you want money, earn it. It takes longer to skin an elephant than a mouse, but the skin is worth something. If you want confidence, prove yourself worthy of it. Do not be content with doing what another has done — sur- pass it. Deserve success, and it will come. The boy was not born a man. The sun does not rise like a rocket, or go down like a bullet fired from a gun ; slowly and surely it makes its round, and never tires. It is as easy to be a lead horse as a wheel horse. If the job be long, the pay will be greater ; if the task be hard, the more com- petent you must be to do it. — Anonymous. COURTESY AT HOME. , OUE.TESY is the perfume of Christian grace. Its luster W should be an expression of the best emotions of the soul. The word is derived from the French, and is closely allied M therefore, in origin, with " courtier," which has an equivocal 1 meaning. A courtier is supposed to possess elegant manners, cultivated however and used mainly for selfish ends. Polite- ness, which is the synonym of courtesy, is of nobler birth. It comes from a Greek term, signifying citizenship. As the divine kingdom 206 C OUBTEST AT HOME. is distinct in its laws, spirit, and purpose, from the kingdoms of this- earth, so too are its members held together by a supernatural life. They compose one body, ruled by one Supreme Head. Christian politeness is therefore the product of regeneration. Its roots are in the heart. They are watered from above. All, then, who are sub- jects of Divine grace, should be gracious, kind, considerate, courteous, and polite in their deportment, and show forth the savor of the precious anointing they have received. How much a sincere and hearty politeness may do for others is readily tested and measured by all who have learned to appreciate it for themselves. While it is comparatively easy to be courteous toward strangers, or toward people of distinction, whom one meets in society or on piiblic occasions, still it should be remembered that it is at home, in the family, and among kindred, that an every-day politeness of manners is really most to be prized. There it confers substantial benefits and brings the sweetest returns. The little attentions which members of the same household may show towards one another day by day belong, in fact, to what is styled "good breeding." There cannot be any ingrained gentility which does not exhibit itself first at home. There, of all places in the world, it will be able to demonstrate liow much genuine politeness there is in the- heart. A well-ordered family cannot afibrd to dispense with the- observance of the good rules of mutual intercourse wliich are enforced in good society. A churlish, sour, morose deportment at home is simply cruel, for it cuts into the tenderest sensibilities and hurts love just where love is strongest and most loyal. Parents and children, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, never lose any thing by mutual politeness; on the contrary, by maintaming not only its forms, but by the inward cultivation of its spirit, they become con- tributors to that domestic felicity which is, in itself, a foretaste of heaven. — Christian Weekly. 207 CHRISTIAH COURTESY. SAW somewhere the other day a sentence like this : " The truest courtesy is the truest Christianity." This is not simply saying, I take it, that a Christian will be a gentle- man ; it teaches that the spirit of self-denial, of foregoing personal advantages for the sake of favoring another, is the root and substance of the regenerated life. Now, here is a practical test, brought near to us in all the scenes of our intercourse with our fellows, showing what manner of spirit we are of. If we are truly — that is sincerely — courteous and polite, we are serving Christ, showing his example, and exhibiting his spirit. If in the collisions of personal interests through the day we are more careful to favor ourselves, to secure the best, to be served first, to gratify our own wishes and tastes, than to gratify and serve others, I care not what names we bear, or what professions we make, or what religious exercises we engage in, the spirit of the Master is not in ns. — Anonymous. man can possibly improve in any company, for which he has not respect enough to be under some degree of restraint. — Lord Chesterfield. People seldom improve when they have no other model but themselves to copy after. — Oliver Goldsmith. 208 THE MORALITY OF HAHKERS. Horace Mann. ^ll^^irANNERS easily and rapidly mature into morals. As childhood advances to manliood, the transition from bad manners to bad morals is almost imperceptible. Vulgar and obscene objects before the mind, engender impure images in the imagination and make unlawful desires prurient. From the prevalent state of the mind, actions proceed as water rises from a foimtain. Hence what was originally only a word or phrase becomes a thought, is meretriciously embellished by the imagi- nation, is inflamed into a vicious desire, gains strength and boldness by always being welcome, until at last, under some urgent temptation, it dares, for once, to put on the visible form of action ; it is then ventured upon again and again, more frequently and less warily, until repetition forges the chains of habit; and then language, imagina- tion, desire and habit bind their victim to the prison-house of sin. In this way profane language wears away the reverence for things eacred and holy ; and a child who has been allowed to follow and mock and hoot at an intemperate man in the streets is far more likely to become intemperate himself than if he has been accustomed to regard him with pity, as a fallen brother, and with sacred abhor- rence, as one self-brutiiied or demonized. So, on the other hand, purity and chasteness of language tend to preserve purity and chaste- ness of thought and of taste ; they repel licentious imaginings ; they delight in the unsullied and the untainted, and all their tendencies are on the side of virtue. 209 THE WITCHERY OF MAHHER. ll^g^rLA'IOST every man can recall scores of cases witliin Ms- ti knowledge where pleasing manners have made the fortunes ,^ of lawyers, doctors, divines, merchants, and, in short, men ^ in evei'y walk of life. Kaleigh flung down his laced coat into the mud for Elizabeth to walk on, and got for his reward a 2:)roud queen's favor. The politician who has this advantage easily distances all rival candidates, for eveiy voter he speaks with becomes instantly his friend. The very tones in which he asks for a pinch of snaff are often more potent than the logic of a Webster or a Clay. Polished manners have often made a scoundrel successful, while the best of men, by their hardness and coldness, have done themselves incalculable injury ; the shell being so rough that the world could not believe there was a precious kernel within. Civility is to a man what beauty is to a woman. It creates an instantaneous impression in his behalf, while the opposite quality excites as quick- a prejudice against him.. It is a real ornament, the most beautiful dress that man or woman can wear, and worth more as a means of winning favor than the finest clothes and jewels ever worn. The- gruffest man loves to be appreciated; and it is oftener the sweet smile of a woman, which we think intended for us alone, than a pair of Juno-like eyes, or " lips that seem on roses fed," that bewitches, our heart, and lays us low at the feet of her whom we afterward marry.— ,4 nonymous. Best men are moulded out of faults. — Shakespeare. 210 fi SIBTEIi'B SYJ'KPJiTidY — Taking out the Thorn. CULTIVATE PATIEHCB. If E patient with your friends. They are neither omniscient nor omnipotent. They cannot see your heart, and may ' ^ misunderstand you. They do not know what is best for "1? you, and may select what is worst. Their arms are short, and they may not be able to reach what you ask. What if also they lack purity of purpose or tenacity of affection ; do not you also lack these graces? Patience is your refuge. Endure, and in enduring •conquer them, and if not them, then at least yourself. Above all, b.e patient with your beloved. Love is the best thing on the earth, but it is to be handled tenderly, and impatience is a nurse that kills it. Be patient with your pains and cares. We know it is easy to say and hard to do. But, dear child, you must be patient. These -things are killed by enduring them, and made strong to bite and sting by feeding them with your frets and fears. There is no pain or care that can last long. N^one of them shall enter the city of God. A little while and you shall leave behind you the whole troop of howling troubles, and forget in your first sweet hour of rest that such things were on earth. — Anonymous. "^ fHE greater the difficulty,' the more the glory in surmounting it. Skillful pilots gain their reputation from storms and lempests. — Anonymous. Beware the fury of a patient man. — Dnjden. K 213 A WOMAN'S CARES. T. Ok Witt Talmagb. HE reason I have preached ten sermons to men and none to women, is that the women are better than men. I do not say this out of compliment or in gallantry ; although when 'i^ women are bad they are dreadful. Statistics prove this. They have fewer temptations, are naturally reverential and loving, and it is easier for them to become Christians. " They are the major- ity in Church on earth, and I suppose they will be three-fourths of the population in Heaven." In a beautiful homestead in Bethany, a widow was left to take charge of the premises. The pet of the house was Mary, a younger sister, who, with a book under her arm, has no appearance of anxiety or perturbation. Christ and several of his friends arrived at the house. They did not keep him waiting till they adjusted their dress, and after two or three knockings, hasten to the door and say, " Why ! is that you ? " No. They were ladies, and always presentable, though they might not have on their best. If we always had on our best, our best would not be worth putting on. They threw open the door and greeted Christ with, " Good morning. Be seated." Martha went oif to the kitchen ; while Mary, believing in division of labor, said, " Martha, you go and cook, and I'll be good." Something went wrong in the kitchen. Perhaps the fire wouldn't burn, or the bread wouldn't bake, or Martha scalded her hand. At any rate she lost her patience ; and with besweated brow, and possibly with pitcher in one hand and the tongs in the other, rushed into the presence of Christ, saying, " Lord, dost thou not care that my sister has left me to serve alone ? " 214 WOMAN. But Christ scolded not a word. He seemed to say, " My dear ■woman, don't worry. Let the dinner go. Sit down on the ottoman beside Mary, your humble sister." When a man comes home from business and sees his wife worn out, he thinks she ought to have been in Wall street, and then she would have something to worry her. He does not know that she conducts a university, a clothing establishment, a restaurant, a laundry and .a library ; while she is health officer, police and president of her residence. They have to contend with severe economy. Ninety-nine out of a hundred are subjected to it. If a man smokes very expensive cigars and eats costly dinners in New York, he is exceedingly desir- ous of making five dollars do the work of seven at home. The wife is banker in the household ; she is president, cashier, teller and dis- count clerk; and there is a panic every few weeks. This severe discipline will make heaven.very attractive to you. WOMAE" ! in our hours of ease. Uncertain, coy, and hard to please. And variable. as the shade By the light of quivering aspen made; When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou ! — Sir Walter 8coU„ ' VE was made of a rib out of the side of Adam, — not made out of his head to top him, nor out of his feet to be trampled upon by him, but out of his side to be equal with him, under his arm t;o be protected, and near his heart to be beloved. — Matthew Henry. 215 f TELL YOUR WIFS. WF you are in any trouble or quandary, tell your wife — that is, if you have one — all about it at once. Ten to one her in- vention will solve your difficulty sooner than all your logic. The wit of woman has been praised, but her instincts are quicker and keener than her reason. Counsel with your wife, or mother, or sister, and be assured, light will flash upon your darkness. IVomen are too commonly adjudged as verdant in all but purely womanish affairs. T\^o philosophical students of the sex thus judsre them. Their intuitions, or insights, are the most subtle. In counseling a man to tell his wife, we would go farther, and advise him to keep none of his affairs a secret from her. Many a home has been happily saved, and many a fortune retrieved, by a man's full confidence in his ^' better-half" Woman is far more a seer and prophet than man, if she be given a fair chance. As a general rule, wives confide the minutest of their plans and thoughts to their husbands, having no in- volvements to screen from them. Why not reciprocate, if but for the pleasure of meeting confidence with confidence ? We are certain that no man succeeds so well in the world as he who, taking a partner for life, makes her the partner of his purposes and hopes. What'is wrong of his impulse "or judgment, she will check and set right with her almost universaWy right instincts. " Help-meet " was no insignificant title as applied to man's companion. She is a help-' meet to him in every darkness, difficulty and sorrow of life. And what she most craves and most deserves is confidence — without which love is never free from a shadow. — Pacifio Rural Press. 216 HOSPITALITY. Oliver Goldsmith. TlLEST be that spot where cheerful guests retire To pause from toil, and trim their evening fire ; Blest that abode, where waut and pain repair, ■^ And ev'ery stranger finds a ready chair : Blest be those feasts with simple plenty crown'd, Where all the ruddy family around Laugh at the jest or pranks, that never fail, Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale, Or press the bashful stranger to his food, And learn the luxury of doing good. TRUE HOSPITALITY, Sir Arthub Helps. PERFECT host is as rare a being as a great poet, and for much the same reason, namely, that to be a perfect host requires as rare a combination of qualities as those which are needed to produce a great poet. He should be like that lord in waiting of whom Charles II. said, that he was " never in. the way, and never out of the way." He should never degenerate into a showman, for there -is nothing of which most people are so soon weary as of being shown things, especially if they are called upon to admire them. He, the perfect host, should always recoUect that he 217 ■rRUE nOSi'ITALITY. is in Ms own house, and that his guests are not in theirs, conse- quently those local arrangements which are familiar to him should be rendered familiar to them. His aim should be to make his house a home for his guests, with all the advantage of noveltj. If he entertains many guests, he should know enough about them to be sure that he has invited those who will live amicably together, and will enjoy each other's society. He should show no favoritism, if possible, and if he is a man who must indulge in favoritism, it should be to those of his guests who are more obscure than the others. He should be judiciously despotic as regards all proposals for pleasure, for there will be many that are diverse, and much time will be wasted if he does not take upon himself the labor and responsibility of decision. He should have much regard to the com- ings and goings of- his guests, so as to provide for their adit and exit every convenience. Now I am going to insist on what I think to be a very great point. He should aim at causing that his guests should hereafter become friends, if they are not so at present, so that they might, in future days, trace back the beginning of their friendship to their having met together at his house. He, the perfect host, must have the art to lead conversation without absorbing it himself, BO that he may develop the best qualities of his guests. His expense in entertainment should not be devoted to what is luxurious, but to what is ennobling and comfortable. The first of all things is that he should be an affectionate, indeed, a loving host, so that every one of his guests should feel that he is really welcome. He should press them to stay, but should be careful that this pressing does not inter- fere with their convenience, so that they stay merely to oblige him, and not to please themselves. In considering who should be his guests, he should always have a thought as to those to whom he would render most service by having them as his guests, his poorer brethren, his more sickly brethren. Those who he feels would gain 218 TSE RULE OF HOSPITALITY. most advantage by being his guests, should have the first plaoe in his invitations, and for his considerateness he will be amply rewarded by the benefits he will have conferred. THE EULE OF HOSPITALITY. Wm. M. F. Rotind. fEUE hospitality is a thing that touches the heart and never goes beyond \ the circle of generous impulses. Entertain- ment with the truly hospitable man means more than the % mere feeding of the body ; it means an interchange of soul gifts. Still it should have its laws, as all things good must have laws to govern them. The obligation to be hospitable is a sacred one, emphasized by every moral code known to the world, and a practical outcome of the second great commandment. There should never be a guest in the house whose presence requires any considerable change in the domestic economy. However much the circumstances of business or mutual interests may demand in entertaining a stranger, he should never be taken into the family circle unless he is known to be wholly worthy of n, place in that sanctum sanctorum of social life ; but when once a man is admitted to the home fireside he should be treated as if the place had been his always. The fact of an invitation gives neither host nor guest the right to be master of the other's time, and does not require even a temporary sacrifice of one's entire individuality or pursuits. A man should never be so much himself as when he entertains a friend. 219 TBE RULE OF HOSPITALITY. To stay at a friend's house beyond the time for which one is invited is to perpetrate a social robbery. To abide uninvited in a friend's home is as much a misdemeanor as borrowing his coat without his permission. It is debasing the eoin of friendship to mere dross when a man attempts to make it pay his hotel bills. The fact of two men having the same occupation and interests in life gives to neither a social right to the other's bed and board. A traveling minister has no more right to go uninvited to a fellow- preacher's house than a traveling shopkeeper or shoemaker has to go uninvited to the house of his fellow-craftsman. Men are ordained to the ministry as preachers, teachers, and pastors, and not as private hotel-keepers. They who go into the country in summer as uninvited guests of their farmer friends should be rated as social brigands and treated accordingly. These few sociarmaxims are by no means to be t^ken as a com- plete code of laws. Others quite as important will spring up out of the personal experience of every reader of this article, and the jus- tice and equity of all may be tested by that infallible standard of society — the Golden Eule. There can be no true hospitality that in practice is a violation of this rule ; and you may safely rest assured that you have given the fullest and most perfect measure of enter- tainment to your neighbor if you have done exactly as you would be done by. tMAN should never be ashamed to own that he has been in the wrong, which is but saying in other words, that he is wiser to-day than he was yesterday. — Alexander Pope. 220 DOH^T BE fOO 2EHSITIYE. HERE are people — yes, many people — always looking out for slights. They cannot carry on the daily intercourse of the family without finding that some offense is designed. They are as touchy as hair-triggers. If they meet an acquaint- I ance who happens to be preoccupied with business, they attrib- ute his distraction in some mode personal to themselves, and take umbrage accordingly. They lay on others the fruit of their irritability. Indigestion makes them see impertinence in every one they come in contact with. Innocent persons, who never dreamed of giving offense, are astonished to find some unfortunate word or momentary taciturnity mistaken for an insult. To say the least, the habit is unfortunate. It is far wiser to take the more charitable view of our fellow-beings, and not suppose that a slight is intended unless the neglect is open and direct. After all, too, life takes its hues in a great degree from the color of our own mind. If we are frank and generous, the world will treat us kindly ; if, on the contrary, we are suspicious, men learn to be cold and cautious to us. Let a person get the reputation of being " touchy," and everybody is under restraint, and in this way the chances of an imaginary offense are vastly increased. — Anonymous. f THINK the first virtue is to restrain the tongue ; he approaches nearest to the gods who knows how to be silent, even though he is in the right. — Cato. 221 THE HAPPIEST HOME. M A. 8. M HEEE is the happiest home on earth ? Tis not 'mid scenes of noisy mirth ; '■h But where God's favor, sought aright, Fills every breast with joy and light. The richest home ? It is not found Where wealth and splendor most abound ; But wheresoe'er, in hall or cot, Men live contented with their lot. The fairest home ? It is not placed In scenes with outward beauty graced ; But where kind words and smiles impart A constant sunshine to the heart. On such a home of peace and love God showers his blessing from ahove ; And angels, watching o'er it, cry, " Lo ! this is like our home on high ! " The intelligence of the people is the security of the nation, — Dcmiel Weiste?, Every man is the architect of his own fortune. — Sallust. %2% EDUCATIOH. H. W. BREcncR. p DUOATION is the knowledge of how to use the whole of one's self. Men are often like knives with many blades ; they know how to open one, and only one ; all the rest are buried in the handle, and they are no better than they would have been if they had been made with but one blade. Many men use but one or two faculties out of the score with which they are endowed. A man is educated who knows how to make a tool of every faculty — ^how to open it, how to keep it sharp, and how to apply it to all practical purposes. ADYICE TO A YOUIC MAH. John Todd, D.D. |l MAN" who wills it can go anywhere and do what he deter- ge mines to do. We must make ourselves, or come to nothing. We must swim oif, and not wait for any one, to put cork under us. I congratulate you on being poor, and thus com- pelled to w;ork ; it was all that ever made me what little I am. Maote virtute. Don't flinch, flounder, fall, nor fiddle, but igrapple like a man, and you will be a man. JLDEAS go booming through the world louder than cannon. =, Thoughts are mightier than armies. Principles have achieved more victories than horsemen or chariots. — W. M. Paxton, D.D. 333 COUHSELS TO THE YOUHG. 11 EVER be cast down by trifles. If a spider breaks his web 1 1 twenty times, twenty times will he mend it again. Make up your minds to do a thing, and you will do it. Fear not if trouble comes upon you; keep up your spirits, (^ though the day may be a dark one. " Troubles never last forever ; Tlie darkest day will pass away." If the sun is going down, look up tc the stars ; if the earth is- dark, keep your eyes on heaven. With God's presence and God's promise, a man or child may be cheerful. "Never despair when fog's in the air, A sunshiny morning will come without warning I " Mind what you run after ! Never be content with a bubble that will burst, or a fire-wood that will end in smoke and darkness. But that which you can keep, and which is worth keeping, " Something sterling, that will stay When gold and silfver fly away ! " Fight hard against a hasty temper. Anger will come, but resist it strongly. A spark may set a house on fire. A fit of passion may give you cause to mourn all the days of your life. Never revenge an injury. " He that revengeth knoweth no rest ; The meek possess a peaceful breast ! " If you have an enemy, act kindly to him, and make him your friend. Tou may not win him over at once, but try again. Let one 234 COUNSELS TO THE YOUNG. kindness be followed by another, till you have compassed your end. By little and by little great things are completed. " Water falling day by day. Wears the hardest rock away." And so repeated kindnesses will soften a heart of stone. Whatever you do, do it willingly. A boy that is whipped at ■school never learns his lessons well. A man that is compelled to work, cares not how badly it is pei'formed. Evil thoughts are worse enemies than lions and tigers, for we can ^•et out of the way of wild beasts. Keep your heads and hearts full ■of good thoughts, that bad thoughts may not find room. — Anonymo us. ""ALUE the ends of life more than its means : watch ever for the soul of good in things evil, and the soul of truth in things false, and beside the richer influence that will flow out from your life on all to whom you minister, you will do U something to help the solution of that unsolved problem of the human mind and heart, the reconciliation of hearty tolerance with strong positive belief — Phillips Brooks. No man is so insignificant as to be sure his example can do no liurt. — Lord Clarendon. Theee never was a great man, unless through divine inspiration. — Ci.ce'fn. fO YOUia MEI. "Sowing Wild Oats,'' or What sliall the Harvest be? D. L. Mooi/f. ^■^^^"BLElSr a man sows in the natural world he expects to reap. There is not a farmer who goes out to sow, but expects ^^^f^'^' ^ harvest. Another thing — they all expect to reap more than they sow. Ajid they expect to reap the same as they sow. If they sow wheat, they expect to reap wheat. If they sow oat^, they won't expect to gather watermelons. If they plant an apple-tree, they don't look for peaches on it. If they plant a grapevine, they expect to find grapes, not pumpkins. They will look for just the very seed they sow. Let me say right here, tliat ignorance of what they sowed will make no difference in the reaping. It would not do for a man to say, " I didn't know but what it was wheat I was sowing, when I sowed tares." That makes no difference. If I go out and sow tares, thinking that it is wheat, I've got to gather tares all the same. That is a universal law. If a man learns the carpenter's trade, he don't expect to be a watchmaker, he expects to be a carpenter. The man wh^- goes to college and studies hard, expects to reap for those long years of toil and labor. It is the same in the spiritual world. Whatsoever a man or nation sows, he and they must reap. The reaping time will come. Men may think God is winking at sin now-a-days, and isn't going to punish sin, because he does not execute his judgments speedily ; but be not deceived, God is not mocked, and whatsoever a man soweth that shall he reap. I tremble for those young men who laugh in a scoffing way and say, " I am sowing my wild oats." You have got 236 TO YOUNG MEN. to reap them. There are some before me now reaping them, who only a few years ago were scoffing in the same way. The rich man who fared luxuriously, while the poor man sat at his gate, and the dogs came and licked his sores, the reaping time has come for him now. He would gladly change places with that beggar now. Yes, there will be a change by and by. Men may go on scoff- ing and make light of the Bible, but they will find it to be true by and by. I think there is one passage that you will admit is true. You very often see it in the daily papers, that " Murder wiU out " when some terriblfe crime that has been covered up for years has come to light. And there is one passage I would like to get every one to remember : " Be sure your sin will find you out." There are a great many things in this world we are not sure of, but this we can always be sure of, that our sins will find us out. I don't care how deep you dig the grave in which you try to bury them. Look at those sons of Jacob. They thought they had covered up their sin, and their father never would find out what they had done with' Joseph. And the old man mourned him for twenty long years. But at last, after all these years had gone, away down in Egypt, there Joseph stood before them. How they began to tremble. Oh, it had found them out. Their sin had overtaken them. Young men, you may have committed some sin many years ago, and you think nothing is known about it. Don't you flatter yourself God knows all about it, and be sure your sin will find you out. Your own con- science may turn witness against you by and by. If you sow tares, you will reap disappointment, you will reap despair, you will reap death and hell. If you sow to the Spirit you shall reap peace and joy and happiness and eternal life. The reaping time is coming. What is the harvest going to be ? If you confess your sin, God will have mercy ; He delights in mercy. 227 'i'k ABILITY AHD OPPORTUNITY. 'HESE are the conditions of success. Give a man power and a field in which to use it, and he must accomplish ■MS nt'^^'^fi V J§^ something. He may not do and become all that he desires ^^ and dreams of, but his life cannot be a failure. I never hear men complaining of the want of ability. Thd most unsuccess- ful think that they could do great things if they only had the chance. Somehow or other something or somebody has always been in the way. Providence has hedged them in so that they could not carry out their plans. They knew just how to get rich, but they lacked opportunity. Sit down by one who thus complains and ask him to tell you the story of his life. Before he gets half through he will give you occasion to ask him, " Why didn't you do so at that time ? Why didn't you stick to that piece of land and improve it, or to that busi- ness and develop it ? Is not the present owner of that property rich? Is not the man who took up the business you abandoned successful ? " He will probably reply : " Yes, that was an opportu- nity ; but I did not think so then. I saw it when it was too late." In telling his story he will probably say, of his own accoi-d, half a aozen times, "If I had known how things were going to turn I might have done as well as Mr. A. That farm of his was offered to me. I knew that it was a good one, and cheap, but I knew that it would require a great deal of hard work to get it cleared and fenced, to plant trees, vines, etc., and to secure water for irrigation. I did not like to undertake it. I am sorry now that I didn't. It was one of my opportunities." 238 ABILITY AND P !> H T U NI T T. The truth is, God gives to all of us ability and opportunities enough to enable us to be moderately successful. If we fail, in ninety-five cases out of a hundred it is our own fault. We neglect to improve the talents with which our Creator endowed us, or we failed to enter the door that he opened for us. A man cannot expect that his whole life shall be made up of opportunities, that they will meet him at regular intervals as he goes on, like milestones by the roadside. Usually he has one or two, and if he neglects them he is like a man who takes the wrong road where several meet. The further he goes the worse he fares. A man's opportunity usually has some relation to his ability. It is an opening for a man of his talents and means. It is an opening for him to use what he has, faithfully and to the utmost. It requires toil, self-denial and faith. If he says, " I want a better opportunity than that. I am worthy of a higher position than it offers ;" or if he says, " I won't work as hard and economize as closely as that opportunity demands," he may, in after years, see the folly of his pride and indolence. There are young men all over the land who want to. get rich, and yet they scorn such opportunities as A. T. S'tewart and Commodore Vanderbilt improved. They want to begin, not as those men did, at the bottom of the ladder, but half way up. They want somebody to give them a lift, or carry them up in a balloon, so that they can avoid the early and arduous struggles of the majority of those who have been successful. No wonder that such men fail, and then com- plain of Providence. Grumbling is usually a miserable expedient that people resort to to drown the reproaches of conscience. They know that they have been foolish, but they try to persuade them- selves that they have been unfortunate. — Herald and Presbyter. N 239 HAPFIHESS, Albxandek Pope. ^^RDEE, is heaven's first law; and this confessed, Some are, and must be, greater than the rest ; More rich, more wise, but who infers from hence; That such are happier, shocks all common sens'' Heaven to mankind, irajDartial, we confess, If all are equal in their happiness : But mutual wants this happiness increase, All nature's difference keeps all nature's peace. Condition, circumstance, is not the thing ; Bliss is the same in subject or in king. In who obtains defense, or who defend, In him who is, or him who finds a friend ; Heaven breathes through every member of the whole, One common bleSsing, as one common soul. DOMESTIC HAPPIHBSS, William Cowpek. ^goMESTIC HAPPINESS ! thou only bliss