s and tears in behalf of her children. That man
useful in commercial life; that man prominent in a profession; that
master mechanic--why, every step he takes in life has an echo of
gladness in the old heart that long ago taught him to be a Christian,
and heroic and earnest.

The story of what you have done, or what you have written, of the
influence you exerted, has gone back to the old homestead--for there
is some one always ready to carry good tidings--and that story makes
the needle in the old mother's tremulous hand fly quicker, and the
flail in the father's hand come down on the barn floor with a vigorous
thump. Parents love to hear good news from their children. Do you send
them good news always?

Look out for the young man who speaks of his father as "the governor,"
the "squire," or the "old chap." Look out for the young woman who
calls her mother her "maternal ancestor," or the "old woman." "The eye
that mocketh at his father, and refuseth to obey his mother, the
ravens of the valley shall pick it out, and the young eagles shall eat
it."

God grant that all these parents may have the great satisfaction of
seeing their children grow up Christians. But, oh! the pang of that
mother, who, after a life of street gadding and gossip retailing,
hanging on the children the fripperies and follies of this world, sees
those children tossed out on the sea of life like foam on the wave, or
nonentities in a world where only bravery and stalwart character can
stand the shock! But blessed be the mother who looks upon her children
as sons and daughters of the Lord Almighty.

Oh! the satisfaction of Hannah in seeing Samuel serving at the altar;
of Mother Eunice in seeing her Timothy learned in the Scriptures. That
is the mother's recompense, to see children coming up useful in the
world, reclaiming the lost, healing the sick, pitying the ignorant,
earnest and useful in every sphere. That throws a new light back on
the old family Bible whenever she reads it, and that will be ointment
to soothe the aching limbs of decrepitude, and light up the closing
hours of life's day with the glories of an autumnal sunset!

There she sits,

THE OLD CHRISTIAN MOTHER,

ripe for heaven. Her eyesight is almost gone, but the splendors of the
celestial city kindle up her vision. The gray light of heaven's morn
has struck through the gray locks which are folded back over the
wrinkled temples. She stoops very much now under the burden of care