taught, covering it with the broad
wing of her measureless affection, and lavishing upon it such "sighs as
perfect joy perplexed for utterance, steals from her sister sorrow,"
there is nothing except God's own illimitable affection for his
creatures, that can rival in depth and strength and comprehensiveness, a
mother's love.

The heart of Ward Glazier's wife, at this time, blossomed in absolutely
rank luxuriance with this feeling, and ran riot in the joy of its
possession; but she determined within herself that it should be no blind
or foolish worship. It grew, therefore, into a sober, careful, provident
affection.

Quiet and unobtrusive in manner, her face always wore a look of gravity
befitting one who felt that God had entrusted to her charge a fresh
human soul to mould for good or evil. She fully realized the fact that
her son would grow up with honor or sink down into ignominy just as she
should guide or spoil him in his youth. She quite comprehended the
stubborn truth, that while the father to some extent may shape the
outward career of his son, the mother is responsible for the coloring of
his inner life: and that

"All we learn of good is learned in youth,
When passion's heat is pure, when love is truth."

Though of Puritan stock, though reared in the austere faith of John
Knox, there was nothing hard or harsh in this mother's character, and
still less was there anything of the materialist about her. She would
have utterly scouted the doctrine of Cabanis and his school, which held
that the physical was the whole structure of man; that all instincts,
passions, thoughts, emanated from the body; that sensibility is an
effect of the nervous system, that passion is an emanation of the
viscera, that intellect is nothing more than a cerebral secretion, and
"self-consciousness but a general faculty of living matter." She had
drunk inspiration of a different kind from her infancy. In her New
England home the very atmosphere was charged with religious influences.
She was taught, or rather she had learned without a teacher, not only to
see God in the flowers and in the stars, but to recognize his immediate
agency in all things terrestrial.

Night after night, listening to the tremulous tones of her father as he
read a lesson from the sacred page, not only to those of his own blood,
but to his "man-servant, his maid-servant, and the stranger within his
gates," she had felt the presence of a tangible God, and