representative women--of Eve, who
ruined the race by one fruit-picking; of Jael, who drove a spike
through the head of Sisera the warrior; of Esther, who overcame
royalty; of Abigail, who stopped a host by her own beautiful prowess;
of Mary, who nursed the world's Saviour; of Grandmother Lois,
immortalized in her grandson Timothy; of Charlotte Corday, who drove
the dagger through the heart of the assassin of her lover, or of Marie
Antoinette, who by one look from the balcony of her castle quieted a
mob, her own scaffold the throne of forgiveness and womanly courage. I
speak not of these extraordinary persons, but of those who,
unambitious for political power, as

WIVES AND MOTHERS

and sisters and daughters, attend to the thousand sweet offices of
home.

When at last we come to calculate the forces that decided the destiny
of nations, it will be found that the mightiest and grandest influence
came from home, where the wife cheered up despondency and fatigue and
sorrow by her own sympathy, and the mother trained her child for
heaven, starting the little feet on the path to the celestial city;
and the sisters by their gentleness refined the manners of the
brother; and the daughters were diligent in their kindness to the
aged, throwing wreaths of blessing on the road that leads father and
mother down the steep of years. Need I go into history to find you
illustrations? Ah no; in your own memory there was at least one such!
When I come to speak of womanly influence, my mind always wanders off
to

ONE MODEL,

the aged one who, twenty years ago, we put away for the resurrection.
About eighty years ago, and just before their marriage day, my father
and mother stood up in the old meeting-house at Somerville, New
Jersey, and took upon them the vows of the Christian. Through a long
life of vicissitude she lived harmlessly and usefully, and came to her
end in peace. No child of want ever came to her door and was turned
empty away. No one in sorrow came to her but was comforted. No one
asked her the way to be saved but she pointed him to the cross. When
the angel of life came to a neighbor's dwelling she was there to
rejoice at the incarnation. When the angel of death came to a
neighbor's dwelling she was there to robe the departed for the burial.

We had often heard her, when leading family prayers in the absence of
my father, say, "O Lord, I ask not for my children wealth or honor,
but I do ask that they all may be