relished this mode of "stopping her off," but it was
generally effective, though sometimes it produced a slight
ebullition.

At last, though the chances in favour of matrimony had become
alarmingly few, Martha was wooed, won, and married to a gentleman
named Laurie, who removed with her to the West.

"There is some prospect at last," Mrs. Fleetwood said to her
husband, with a smile, on the occasion of Martha's wedding, "of
sister's being able to bring into practice her theories in regard to
family government. I only hope the mother's children may be as good
as the old maid's."

"I doubt if they will," remarked the husband, smiling in turn.

"We shall see."

Years passed, and Martha, now Mrs. Laurie, remained in the West. Her
sister frequently heard from her by letter, and every now and then
received the announcement of a fine babe born to the proud mother;
who as often spoke of her resolution to do her duty towards her
children, and especially in the matter of enforcing obedience. She
still talked eloquently of the right modes of domestic government,
and the high and holy duties of parents.

"Let me be blamable in what I may," said she, in one of these
letters, "it shall not be a disregard to the best interests of my
children."

"I hope not, indeed," said Mrs. Fleetwood, after reading the passage
to her husband. "But those who really understand the true character
of children, and are sensible of the fact that they inherit from
their parents all the evil and disorderly tendencies not fully
overcome in themselves, feel too deeply the almost hopeless task
they assume, to boast much of what they will do with _their_
children. A humble, reserved, even trembling consciousness of the
difficulties in the way of the parent, is the most promising state
in which a parent can assume his or her responsibilities. To look
for perfect order and obedience is to look for what never comes. Our
duty is to sow good seed in the minds of our children, and to see
that the ground be kept as free from evil weeds as possible. The
time of fruit is not until reason is developed; and we err in
expecting fruit at an early period. There will come the tender
blade, green and pleasant to the eye, and the firm, upright stalk,
with its leaves and its branches; and flowers, too, after a while,
beautiful, sweet-smelling flowers; but the fruit of all our labour,
of all our careful culture, appears not until reason takes the place
of mere obedienc