ck with the Roman instance of filial piety, in which the
life-blood was shed by tender woman to save a father. Yet when should
one meet a voluntary death, if not for the redemption of a parent?

Let the daughter confide then in her father, and seek so to demean
herself that his eye might dwell fondly on the very secrets of her
heart. Let her refer to his opinions, consult his wishes, and conform
to his tastes and habits. His reception as he returns at evening to his
fireside, should not consist in ceaseless importunities, nor of aught
which terminates in unreasonable regards for self. How much better were
a studious concern for his wants, and the bestowal of some act of
delicate attention.

His pecuniary circumstances should be thoughtfully considered. Perhaps
he is destitute. Then do not press him with calls he is pained, but yet
compelled, to deny you. It may be that his fortune has recently been
marred. Consider this, and be willing to relinquish personal
gratifications and adapt your feelings and desires to his present
situation. Or he is thrown, perhaps, on the bed of sickness. Manifest
now the reality of that affection you professed for him in his health.
Delight to bathe his fevered brow, and to perform those unnumbered
services, for which Providence has qualified your sex.

In his old age be still more devoted. Point out to his failing vision
the path he would tread. Let him feel that you are striving to solace
his declining years, and to requite that love which was shed upon you,
the earliest moment of your consciousness. Can you do less for him, now
that desire fails and the grasshopper has become a burden and he must
soon go to his long home? Of you may it be said,

"Amid the giddy round of prosperous years,
The birth of new affections, and the joys
That cluster round earth's favorites, there walked
Still at her side, the image of her Sire."

But, if all this be due to a father, how shall we describe the claims of
a mother? To this parent the daughter owes her very being. These are the
arms which never tired of supporting her in infancy. For her the step
was light, the voice hushed, the breath almost suppressed. To minister
to her wants the social visit was forborne, and home made the one
thought, until the cheek grew pale, and the eye dim for sleeplessness.
The sickness of her daughter poured new waters into a cup, that seemed
already filled with cares. To clothe and adorn her, every per