ild, of brother and sister,
of teacher and pupil, united and harmoniously blended, constitute the
home-influence.

From this we may infer the character of home-influence. It is great,
silent, irresistible, and permanent. Like the calm, deep stream, it moves
on in silent, but overwhelming power. It strikes its roots deep into the
human heart, and spreads its branches wide over our whole being. Like the
lily that braves the tempest, and "the Alpine flower that leans its cheek
on the bosom of eternal snows," it is exerted amid the wildest storms of
life, and breathes a softening spell in our bosom even when a heartless
world is freezing up the fountains of sympathy and love. It is governing,
restraining, attracting and traditional. It holds the empire of the heart,
and rules the life. It restrains the wayward passions of the child, and
checks him in his mad career of ruin.

"Hold the little hands in prayer, teach the weak knees their kneeling,
Let him see thee speaking to thy God; he will not forget it afterward;
When old and gray, will he feelingly remember a mother's tender piety,
And the touching recollection of her prayers shall arrest the strong
man in his sin!"

Home-influence is traditional. It passes down the current of life from one
generation to another. Its continuity is preserved from first to last. The
homes of our forefathers rule us even now, and will pass from us to our
children's children. Hence it has been called the "fixed capital" of home.
It keeps up a continuous stream of home-life and feeling and interest.
Hence the family likeness, moral as well as physical,--the family virtues
and vices,--coming from the family root and rising into all the branches,
and developing in all the elements of the family history.

Home-influence is attractive. It draws us to home, and throws a spell
around our existence, which we have not the power to break.

"The holy prayer from my thoughts hath pass'd,
The prayer at my mother's knee--
Darken'd and troubled I come at last,
Thou home of my boyish glee!"

Home-influence may he estimated from the immense force of first
impressions. It is the prerogative of home to make the first impression
upon our nature, and to give that nature its first direction onward and
upward. It uncovers the moral fountain, chooses its channel, and gives the
stream its first impulse. It makes the "first stamp and sets the first
seal" upon the plastic nature of the child.