and its upturned eyes were half vailed by the convulsed lid. Senseless, unconscious, and helpless, never had that child been more dear to the mother's heart than now; yet love could not save it; sorrow could not ransom it. There was a long breath, a sigh, a gurgling sound in the throat-and then quiet: it was the quiet of death. Yet still the mother watched for him that could not hear her weeping.

At length the morning fairly broke. It was broad daylight, and the husband rose from his couch, with red eyes and heated brain. His step was unsteady as he entered the apartment, where still sat the mother by her dead child.

"It's late," said the husband, advancing; "I shall not be in time for work. Why did you let me sleep so long?"

"Poor little Willie!" was all she could sob out in reply.

"What's the matter?" he asked; and then, pausing a moment, he seemed suddenly to recollect the events of the past night. "I think you said the child was ill."

"He's dead!"

"O, God!" he exclaimed, "it can not be."

He looked down into the cradle, and there lay the child, calm and placid as if in sleep, yet breathing not, and with the hue of death upon its cheek. He groaned, and sunk into a chair by the cradle-side, unable to speak.

But suddenly there passed through his mind the visions of the past; and he thought of the sweet prattle of his child on the evenings of his return from labor—of the delight he had felt in watching his growing intelligence of his arch wiles, and playfulness-and then of the patient love and care of his wife, now bowed down in silent grief beside him.

"O, Kate, this is a sad sight. Our poor, dear child!" and the strong man hid his face in his hands, and sobbed audibly.

She took his hand. He looked up through his tears, and said, "I have been very cruel and selfish toward you. Do you not hate me?"

"No, no!" said the weeping wife; "no, William; but here, by the dead body of this our first-born, let me speak to you of the past."

473

"You did, Kate. No wife could have been more kind and good."

"William, I prayed for you; I thought but of you; I lived but for you."

"O, spare me. I know, I feel, how cruel I have been."

"No, only thoughtless. When sober, you have always been kind and loving; but when you have spent your evenings away from us, and come in late

"I have been harsh and cruel-I know it now." "Dear Williain, one other word, and I have done. Let me have some of your evening leisure spent beside me. I will try to make you happy. Sit beside me while I work; and if I do not know so much as the companions whom you meet with elsewhere, teach me, and I will learn."

"O, Kate," said William, sobbing, "I never felt your love so dear to me as now. Here, by the body of this dear child, I solemnly promise that it shall be as you say. I will forsake those haunts of dissipation in which my soul had well-nigh been lost, and seek peace, and pardon, and happiness, again, by your side."

And it was so. The dark shadow passed away from the household. Time, which heals all, gradually assuaged this first great grief of both; and it was converted, by Providence, into a blessing. The husband was restored to his home again, and to the earnest love of his wife. Comfort flew back to the hearth, and other infant treasures replaced that which had been lost. And as time passed on, the memory of the dead infant was guarded as a precious treasure; for its death had been sanctified to both. The promise solemnly made by its cradle-coffin had been kept, and peace and blessings descended in rich abundance upon the happy cottage home.

COMFORT AT HOME.

Ir is easy to understand how the woman's influence in the home should be so much greater than that of the man. She is always present, or ought to be. The children are brought up under her eye, and during the first years of their life all children are taught by the eye. The mother is their example and model, and what she is, they slowly become. The father is engaged all day at his work or in his profession. When he returns in the evening, the children are in bed, so that he sees little of them, except. on Sunday. This is the case with the large proportion of families of working men. Then the husband, who has been toiling all the week like a horse, takes his turn at nursing the baby and looking after the children. But the mother is always there—her hands are constantly busy in the house from morn till night, and from week to week. It is to her that the children

"True! and I love you now."

"I believe you, William. Well, I was young, with little knowledge of the world. But I tried to make your home as happy as mine had been before. I labored to make it cheerful and bright for you. I sought to attract you to my side, and keep you at home with me and the dear child there, after your hours of daily labor were over."

and as they grow older, they take counsel with her respecting their conduct in life. She cherishes them first as infants, with many fond kisses and caresses; then she tends them as boys and girls, with much labor and fatigue, and often in great sorrow; and when they are launched upon the world, each to take part in its labors, its anxieties, and its trials, still they ever fondly turn to the mother for counsel and consolation in their time of need. Children quite

naturally love their mother, and can not help imitating her. When she is kind, good, diligent, patient, and loving, as she ought to be, children may even be said to reverence her; and unhappy are they if she do not at least inspire them with gratitude and deep respect. "Miserable indeed is the man," says J. P. Richter," for whom his own mother has not made all other mothers venerable."

We have lately met with a very curious instance of the remarkable influence exercised by the mother in the formation of her children's character; and in a quarter where one would scarcely be disposed to expect it; namely, the "Reports of Inspectors of Parochial School Unions in England and Wales," where Mr. Tuffnell, in his excellent report on The Schools of the Metropolitan District, makes the following remarkable statement:

"On the mothers mainly depend the character of the rising generation; and it is a trite remark, that many a man who has risen to eminence in the world, traces all his success to the early lessons implanted by his mother's care. The dependence of the character of a family on that of the mother is more especially true of the poorer classes, as the father in most cases rarely sees his children from morning to night. This is a truth so well established that it has even been made subservient to mercantile calculation; and I was informed, in a large factory where many children were employed, that the managers before they engaged a boy, always inquired into the mother's character, and if that was satisfactory, they were tolerably certain that her children would conduct themselves correspondently. No attention was paid to the character of the father."

Shrewd, long-headed, practical managers, these must have been, thus to have gone about the business of selecting their young hands. And they are warranted in their line of conduct by all experience and observation of human life. The child does "take after" the mother, rather than the father; and you will find innumerable instances of the children of bad fathers making their way honorably in life, under the guidance and direction of good mothers; but where the mother is bad-no matter how creditably conducted the father may be the instances of success on the part of the children-that is, success in its highest sense-are comparatively rare. course the chances of success for the children are much greater when man and wife go hand and hand in the proper up-bringing of the family; for it is the man's earnestness or lukewarmness which in most cases regulates the amount of useful activity apparent in the well-doing of his wife and family.

Of

Now, the first condition of a happy home, where good influences prevail over bad ones, is comfort. It is the soil on which the young being grows the most kindly. Where there are carking cares, querulousness, untidiness, slovenliness, and dirt, there can be no comfort either for husband or children. The poor man who has been working all day, expects to have something as a compensation for his toil. The least that his wife can do for him, is to make the house snug, clean, and tidy, against his home-coming at eve. That is the truest economy-the best housekeeping the worthiest domestic management-which makes the home so pleasant and agreeable, that a

man feels, when entering it, that he is going into a kind of sanctuary; and when there, that there is no alehouse attraction which can draw him away from it.

Slovenliness in any house is really very expensive. A little money well laid out by a woman of good taste-and there is no reason why even the poorest woman should not spend her money with taste as well as prudence-goes a great way in making a house neat, graceful, and cheerful. Men, like children, are very much attracted through the eye. Was it not the charm of the girl, her neat dress, and attractive air, which first attracted the youth, and led him to make this girl his wife? Is there any reason why she should cease to take those pains to keep up the flow of his love by such simple methods, now that the twain are mated for life? On the contrary, she should now, as before, strive to preserve her tidiness, neatness, smiles, and grace-charms which, however trivial they may seem, gave the young unwedded man great pleasure, and perhaps constituted the sum total of her fortune. It was for these that he married her. Is there any excuse, then, for her, if, when married, the young wife should cease to take pains to please her husband as before; and instead of a neat comely girl, appear before him with her hair and dress in disorder, and involved in a maze of confusion and dirt? No! young housewife. See to it that you take a proper pride in yourself-have a respect for your own personality. For if you do not respect your own person, neither will your husband do so.

And then there is the respect due for the housenot the mere sleeping or lodging place-not only a dwelling in which to eat and drink-but a home-a training place-a sanctuary-a temple-where soul, mind, heart, and body are alike to be refreshed and invigorated anew for the battle of life. The home must be made gay and bright-reflecting the taste, order, economy, and domestic virtues of the good housewife. Taste here again is a true economist. The eye ought to be satisfied as well as the stomach. And a little money-a very trifle indeed-well spent, will go a great way in these cheap times toward making a house not only tidy, but tasteful, ornamental, neat, and snug. Hang up a picture-why not? You can now get a beautiful woodcut or engraving for a mere trifle; and how gay the walls look that are thus decorated. A fine subject hung against a wall gives a look of intelligence to a house. As some one has said of a picture of a Madonna hung against the wall," It looks as if a bit of heaven were in the room." But even though you may not be able to put up a print, at least have the house clean. There is purity, comfort, and health in that. Cleanliness costs nothing but a little extra labor-that is all. And if it makes a man love his home, and attracts him oftener to it, is not such labor well bestowed? It is quite a mistake to suppose that wealth is necessary to make a home comfortable. It is mainly the diligent hand of the housewife that does it. And the wife who has made her home clean and snug-who has made the best of every thing, and performed her household duties diligently, to the best of her knowledge, has worked well and nobly, and assuredly she will have her reward in due season.

Editor's Cable.

WITH December closes the year, and with this number closes the twelfth volume of the Ladies' Repository. The future, to us, is unrevealed. To you, reader, however, if you will but renew your name as a subscriber for the next volume, we can promise much that will both interest and improve. It is true, we have not now the name of the new editor. This page goes to press before the Book Committee decides that matter, and before we can tell who will monthly meet you around your center-tables and firesides. We doubt not, whoever is chosen will do for you all that is in his power. But for an editor of even exalted talents to succeed well, it is necessary that we have a large list of subscribers. No man likes to sit down and write articles for a few readers only. He can just as well, and better, address thousands than hundreds by his pen. He will have more to stimulate him-more to excite and draw forth his powers. Does the orator or the preacher like a house half filled, or here and there a seat filled, and yonder, and hither, and thither seats entirely vacant? Not more does the editor like a scattered and limited list of patrons to speak to. Give, friends, a true and a hearty lift just now to the enterprise of elevating and sustaining the Repository. Let there be a subscription list, not of a few hundred or a few thousand names, but let there be a list such as will speak, and one in size never yet equaled in the publication of the periodical. The thing can be done. The ladies can do it. Any thing to which they address themselves can be accomplished. Let there be an effort in this matter. Set about the work, good friends, and set about it Procrastination will accomplish nothing but evil. The subject demands prompt action. Can you not, dear friend, yourself already a subscriber, give us your name for next year? We assure you, you shall be well treated and well fed-morally, intellectually, and religiously. Could you not do even more than to renew your name? Why not go and see your lady acquaintance, and get her name as a subscriber? Surely, for kindness and company's sake, there are some, we think, who would do this. Before some people perform a thing, they wish to be asked and urged. Can you not urge the matter somewhat? Do it kindly, politely, but do it in earnest, and many thanks, warm and hearty, from us and the publishers shall you have for your labor. We have big mail-books on hand, and we want a big subscription list. We shall expect nothing else. Let us see how very large and how very long our list of names can be.

now.

We see

As our religious congregations are made up of ladies as well as of gentlemen, we hope we shall not get scolded for saying, in reference to public religious services, that we do not like long sermons. Our whole nature is set against them, and we have spoken, and intend yet to speak against them. Wesley thought that any man who would preach beyond thirty minutes in length was preaching to very little or no purpose. nothing, in a change of the circumstances or the times, to warrant any departure from the principle. Unless a man is extremely unctious in the pulpit, and unless he be on fire with his subject, any thing like prolixity in his discourse will pretty much defeat all the design of that discourse. People will become listless and impatient, and the good impressions which may have been made at the commencement of the services will have been almost wholly dissipated toward the close. We do not pretend to say that these good impressions ought to be thus dissipated; but we say most promptly that they are dissipated, and there we leave the subject. The fact exists: who will make it otherwise?

In connection with what we have just said, it ought to be remembered on the part of preachers-and we do not now mean Methodist preachers exclusively, but the ministry in generalthat the foolish practice of reading instead of preaching ser mons is not the practice which will result in the world's conversion. Right glad are we to see our Presbyterian and other friends practically and energetically repudiating the tame monotony of manuscript discourses. People can read good sermons at home. The world is full of "sermon books;" and whoever desires the pleasure of their perusal, can have that pleasure at almost any time, and for a mere trifle. The read

speeches of Edmund Burke in the English Parliament about as often put people to sleep as any thing else; and the sermons of Whitefield, had they simply been read to a congregation, would have amounted to just about nothing. It is the eye, and the voice, the living, glowing countenance, and the whole impassioned body, that moves the lead from the heart, and strikes fire from the flinty hardness of the soul. To preach, however, with good effect extemporaneously, implies patient study. Robert Hall's answer as to what constituted the first quality of a good sermon, was full of wisdom. "Preparation," said he, "is the first qualification, the second qualification, the third, the only true qualification for the true Gospel minister," Without this the preacher might be without almost every thing. To get up and select a text at random, and to preach at rap. dom, is, to say the least of the thing, very injudicions and injurious. Mere generalities, or mere anecdotes related in a careless or improper manner, effect no good, but frequently cause great mischief. Let the minister of the

found much in his study, much with his Bible, One be

much with

his God, and his success will be great. An unquenched and unquenchable desire to save souls is the prime characteristic of the true Gospel preacher. He must have this feeling, this allabsorbing passion; without it, his way will be hedged and choked up with briers and thorns, full of misery and uncomfort. ableness, and much sorrow; and better had one be striving in some other calling than thus striving in the ministry. Would that the world and the Church had a few more men with Elisha's mantle on-men whose hearts burn for the salvation of human souls, and whose whole being is wrapped up in the consideration, How shall I most effectually accomplish my Master's work, and how many can I save from the perdition of the ungodly?

Among the various inquiries which our correspondents make of us, we find one from an out-of-town friend lately in reference to marriage. "I do not believe in the doctrine," says our friend, "that men should not marry unless they can not only maintain for themselves the social position to which they have been accustomed, but extend the benefits of that position to their wives and children." Nor do we believe in it either. We do believe, however, that a man and wife should be the arbiters of their own fortune. Frequently it happens that the less a new-married couple have the better it is for them. They feel their sense of dependence, and they set about the work of taking care of themselves in good earnest. It is all a piece of nonsense that some young men and women have, that they should have just as much a d just as nice furniture and fixtures to begin housekeeping with as their parents have-not as much as their parents had in their outset in life, but as much as their parents have after long years of patient accumulation and toil. It is the written opinion of an English -uthoress, that the country has become filled with "poor, old maids, trifling, co- | quettish young ladies, and nice-cigar-smoking, good-for-nothing young men, in consequence of the prevalence of the principle, that the freshly-married couple must keep up the rank to which they have been accustomed under the paternal roof." We do not go on the ground that a young man should make proposals of immediate marriage to a lady friend before he has completed his trade or profession, and while his pockets are entirely empty. But we preach the doctrine, that so soon as a young man has completed that trade or profession, and so soon as he has accumulated enough of money to purchase a stove, a washtub, with some other indispensable fixtures, it is time for him to be closing his overtures, and giving up his days of courtship. The subject of doing something for the poor needle-women of our great cities has recently been revive and largely discussed. A commodious building, in an eligible part of New York city, has been furnished to an association of these poor seamstresses, which promises much good. Boarding and lodg ing are allowed the inmates at one dollar and twenty-five cents per week. We hope most sincerely that this enterprise will succeed, and that it will only prove the beginning of good days for a very large but most shamefully oppressed class of the popu lation of our large cities. We shall take occasion hereafter to refer to this matter, as results develop themselves, and as we become familiar with them.