aracter, and its soul.
Yet there are men so industrious and expert to strip the world we live
in of all that adorns it, that they can see nothing glorious in these
affections, but find the one to be all selfishness, and the other all
prejudice and superstition.

The love of the parent to his child is nursed and fostered by two plain
considerations; first, that the subject is capable of receiving much,
and secondly, that my power concerning it is great and extensive.

When an infant is presented to my observation, what a wide field of
sentiment and reflection is opened to me! Few minds are industrious and
ductile enough completely to compass this field, if the infant is only
accidentally brought under their view. But, if it is an infant with
which I begin to be acquainted to-day, and my acquaintance with which
shall not end perhaps till one of us ceases to exist, how is it possible
that the view of its little figure should not lead me to the meditation
of its future history, the successive stages of human life, and the
various scenes and mutations and vicissitudes and fortunes through
which it is destined to pass? The Book of Fate lies open before me. This
infant, powerless and almost impassive now, is reserved for many sorrows
and many joys, and will one day possess a power, formidable and fearful
to afflict those within its reach, or calculated to diffuse blessings,
wisdom, virtue, happiness, to all around. I conceive all the various
destinations of which man is susceptible; my fancy at least is free to
select that which pleases me best; I unfold and pursue it in all its
directions, observe the thorns and difficulties with which it is
beset, and conjure up to my thoughts all that it can boast of inviting,
delightful and honourable.

But if the infant that is near to me lays hold of my imagination and
affections at the moment in which he falls under my observation, how
much more do I become interested in him, as he advances from year to
year! At first, I have the blessing of the gospel upon me, in that,
"having not seen, yet I believe." But, as his powers expand, I
understand him better. His little eye begins to sparkle with meaning;
his tongue tells a tale that may be understood; his very tones, and
gestures, and attitudes, all inform me concerning what he shall be. I am
like a florist, who has received a strange plant from a distant country.
At first he sees only the stalk, and the leaves, and the bud having yet
no