TLE KNOWLEDGE

of anybody's good points this gentleman displays. The young woman who
has worked at ironing in the forenoon until her feet were swollen and
her head has got dizzy, comes into the parlor in the evening, all frills
and tucks, all "highty-tighty," all full of fun and God's good humor,
and impresses my friend with the belief that she has never done an
honest hour's labor in her life! Pshaw! she has got more pluck, and
nerve, and "sand," than half a dozen men, when it comes to where the
need is! She is going to be

THE MOTHER OF AN AMERICAN,

and Americans are not noted for their servility, their laziness, their
mediocrity, or their lack of brains! For shame, then to judge a young
woman as she appears to you when she is anxious to get rid of you! How
would you like to be judged solely at those times when you were
"carrying on," and "didn't care whether school kept or not"? That is
precisely the way this gentleman has spoken of young women a page back.
He thinks they love no one because they have never loved him! He never
loved them, and how could he expect them to be swindled? Read his
remarks over again, and see how events themselves deny his correctness.

HOW MANY HUSBANDS HAS HE SEEN

follow a drunken wife into a gutter? And, on the contrary, has he not
seen the reverse of this sad picture many a time? I heard a Judge say to
a poor woman once,--she was all scars: "I would send this woman-beater
to the work-house for two hundred days if I did not know you would
starve yourself to pay his way out." And then the poor, foolish,
faithful heart appealed to his Honor to "spare the man, just once more;"
she was sure he was a little the worse for drink when he misused her.
What does our friend call this thing in woman, if it be not love? The
being capable of a wife's love, and a mother's love, and a sister's
love, is not much in danger of the criticisms of a man who has only a
front-porch knowledge of all her sex!

SICKNESS.

Even with the best of our philosophy we who are well are
unable to command at will the feelings of those who are ill. We lie on a
bed, racked with the pains of some passing affliction, and the chasm
which separates us from the hale and hearty seems prodigious. We are led
down the stairs, out into the sunlight. The very rays themselves sit
heavily upon our shoulders, and nearly crush us to the earth. With those
vivid impressions of the terrors of illness, we feel that our bra