ad never yet awakened to the first pulse of
tenderness which drew him towards one he would have claimed as a bride,
owed his powers of resistance to as strong, as passionate devotion to a
mother who united in her person all the most glorious attributes of
womanhood, and whose idolizing love for her child was tempered by wisdom
which placed his spiritual progress above all other gain. While he was
struggling to win laurels in art's arena, she strove to bind upon his
brow a crown whose gems were heavenly truths,--a crown the pure in
spirit alone could wear.

Blessed the son who has such a mother! Safe and blessed! His foot shall
tread upon the serpent that lies hidden beneath the tempting flowers in
his path, ere the reptile can sting him; his hand shall resolutely put
away the cup of pleasure from his lips when there is poison in the
chalice; he shall walk through the fire of evil lusts unscathed! No
laurel that wreaths his brow shall render it too feverish, or too proud,
to lie upon that mother's bosom with the glad, all-confiding, satisfied
sense which made its joy when it lay there in guileless boyhood. That
mother's love shall smooth for him the rough ways of earth, and place in
his hand the golden key that opens heaven.

As Maurice took his seat beside Ronald, the latter, hastily sweeping his
handkerchief across his eyes, said with a vehement intonation,--

"I have come to a sudden determination! I am going back to America. The
trip is nothing,--ten days over and ten back,--a mere trifle! I can
spend a couple of months with my parents and be back in time for autumn
work. Instead of sending my picture, which is nearly completed, I will
present it in person."

Maurice sighed as he answered, "They will be proud of your work! Happy
are they who have work to do, and who do it faithfully!"

"That is a sentiment worthy of an American," rejoined Ronald; "indeed,
you have unconsciously stolen it from one of our most distinguished
American writers, who says, 'To have something to do and _to do it_ is
the best appointment for us all.'[Footnote: Hillard's "Italy."] The
extent to which I have insensibly Americanized you is very evident. A
thought has just struck me: you are weary and melancholy, and seem to
grow much paler and thinner every day. It will revive and strengthen you
to accompany me. Come, let us go together!"

"Let us fly to the moon!" answered Maurice, half scornfully. "Ronald,
_why_ do you always forget that