"I'd look until I found a name,
If I sat up all night;

I'd call her Love, or something else,
Before the morning light.'

"To put around my sister's neck,
I made a daisy chain,

And papa clapped his hands, and said:
'We needn't try again.

"A name has come to her at last,
When I was growing lazy.

No more we'll call her 'little dear,'
For she is little Daisy.

"But I must own, though I'm a man,
It takes a deal of wit,

When dainty buds like her unfold,
To find a name to fit.'"

MOTHER AND DAUGHTER.

What a happy opportunity has the mother to give proper direction to her daughter's thoughts, her aspirations and affections. From babyhood to marriage, she has the perceptive mind of her daughter under her influence and instructions. She may command all her confidence, know her every wish and motive, shield her from the open approaches of evil, and prepare her to defend herself against the secret and cunning designs of the destroyer. Mothers are often blamable for much of the waywardness and wickedness of their daughters. To the best of examples, they should add the plainest of counsels, the most minute and careful of explanations concerning all inevitable events of life. All this should be in time and in season, because timely words, fitly spoken, are like apples of gold in pictures of silver. Let mothers look back over their own lives, consider what they ought to have known for their own happiness and welfare, and then make it their prayerful study to train their daughters in a better manner. Oh, mothers! as you prize the virtue and well being of your beautiful girls, teach them something beside the arts of dressing and promenading; teach them in all

wisdom and faithfulness how to be true and pure and amiable and useful, as well as how to be happy and healthy for a hundred

years.

MOTHER AND SON.

Who that has languished, even in advanced life, in sickness and despondency; who that has pined on a weary bed in the neglect and loneliness of a foreign land, or the strangeness and coldness of some far-away region in his own country; but has thought on the mother that looked on his childhood, that smoothed his pillow, and administered to his helplessness. Oh! there is an enduring tenderness in the love of a mother for her son that transcends all other affections of the heart. It is neither to be chilled by selfishness, nor daunted by danger, nor weakened by worthlessness, nor stifled by ingratitude. She sacrifices every comfort to his convenience; she surrenders every pleasure to his enjoyment; she glories in his fame, and exults in his prosperity; and, if adversity overtake him, he becomes even more dear to her by misfortune; and if disgrace settle upon his name, she will still love and cherish him; and if all the world beside cast him off, she will be all the world to him.

FATHER AND SON.

"It is a great delight to a child," says that eminent English surgeon, Pye Henry Chavasse, "to have his father play with him— more especially if he be a father that can enter into his games and general fun, who does not think it derogatory to go on all fours, and be, for the nonce, his horse-he receiving, during the time he is a horse, a few lashes from the whip and a few pokes from his son's knees, to keep up the illusion of horse and rider! This will be glorious fun for the boy, who will, as a consequence, love the father more. A father is strong in the arms, and while singing the celebrated ditty of

'Here we go, up, up, up,

Here we go, down, down, down,
Here we go, backwards and forwards,
Here we go, round, round, round,'

he can suit the action to the word, the word to the action, and give it full effect. This will be charming both to father and child-to the father quite as much as to the child. Nearly every part of the father's body—his shoulders, his back, his arms, and legs-will be put into requisition and active exertion, and will do far more good than any gymnastic exercise whatever. Speaking of such a father, we might, with truth, say:

"He will not shun, who has a father's heart,

To take in child's play a childish part;

But lend his sturdy back to any toy

That youth takes pleasure in, to please his boy.""

FATHER AND DAUGHTER.

How sweet is the relation of father and daughter! It is precious from the very beginning, while the parent is yet young and the child an infant, and, if properly cherished, grows more tender and endearing with the advancing years of life. A discerning writer has observed that there is no prettier picture in domestic life than that of a daughter reading to her aged father. The old man while listening to her silvery notes, goes back to other times when perhaps another one sat by his side, and whispered words he never will hear again; nor does he wish to do so; for in soft evening light he sees her image reflected in her child, and as one by one gentle emotions steal over him, he vails his face, and the daughter, thinking him asleep, goes noiselessly in search of other employment. Virgin innocence watching over the cares and little wants of old age is a spectacle fit for the angels. It is one of the links between earth and heaven, and takes from the face of the necessarily hard and selfish world many of its harshest features. Fathers, cherish the affections of your daughters! Daughters, love your fathers!

THE AGED.

"Why should old age escape unnoticed here,
That sacred era to reflection dear?

That peaceful shore where passion dies away,
Like the last wave that ripples o'er the bay?