HOW TO MAKE HOME A HAPPY PLACE.

53

to regain it. But perhaps a word or look of sympathy, would not occupy so much time as you imagine. If you do not wish to go where your child would lead you, perhaps you can divert his attention to another object. If you cannot attend immediately to a reasonable request, assure him kindly that he shall be heard another time. If you cannot arrange his blocks, or draw his sled, you can convince him by an occasional word or look, that you approve his skill, and enjoy his pleasure.

But I hear a mother say that she cannot attend to such small matters; she wishes to employ her thoughts upon other subjects. Think again of your object, and say if it be not worth the sacrifice. But this may not be so great, as is at first supposed. He will easily be learned to employ and amuse himself much of the time; but when he comes to you for sympathy, beware how you turn him off. You now think him troublesome, but you may soon make him an interesting companion.

We will suppose another case of alienation, in which the parents are hardly less to be blamed, although the child seems guilty of sundering the cord. He has committed a fault. When he meets the penetrating eyes of his parents, his face is mantled in guilt and shame, but they fail to detect it. He becomes reserved, and thinks he has effectually concealed his guilt. He soon takes another step in vice, becomes associated with wicked companions, and, eventually, shuns home and all virtuous society. Do not be afraid of being too familiar with your children. Consider that what they would wish to conceal from you is wrong. Let them always feel that you are their best friend. ish them, do it in faithfulness and love. them, even in the sufferings you, inflict; but assure them that you are still more distressed, in view of their guilt, and that you are anxious to assist them in the work of reform. Let them accompany you to the Throne of Grace, and there learn the depth of your solicitude for their welfare. Perfect

If obliged to pun-
Sympathize with

intimacy will give you an incalculable advantage, an unbounded influence over the minds of your children. It will make you acquainted with their propensities, and enable you to direct and control them, beside preserving and strengthening their attachment to you.

I have said that it is sympathy, that reciprocal feeling, that mutual sensibility which "divides the sorrows, and doubles all the joys of life," which makes home the most delightful and happy place. I need not tell how this is to be acquired, because every parent knows already. But to retain it is more difficult. Still it is practicable. Why not? This affection is the first sign of intellect which we discover in a child; and, if cherished and cultivated, will

"Grow with their growth, and strengthen with their strength.”

Disagreeable manners and vicious habits may cause others to withhold their sympathies, but furnish no reason why parents should restrain theirs. If such be the character of your children, is it not your own fault? And are you not bound to labor by every possible means to reform them? In order to do this with success, you must become perfectly acquainted with their feelings and temptations, that you may discover the root of the evils you would eradicate. To possess their love and confidence, will secure to you an influence which nothing else can afford. It is the duty of parents, to warn their children betimes of the traps and snares which in this wicked world will be laid for their inexperienced and unwary feet, such as the temptations to dishonesty, falsehood, Sabbath-breaking, intemperance and licentiousness,— so that when the trial comes, they may be prepared.

If my views should not coincide with those of other parents, I hope these hints will not be thrown aside without candid consideration. If they cannot tell of a better plan, I hope they will try this. The effort, the sacrifice are nothing, compared with the object.

Dedham, Mass., Feb., 1850.

DIRGE FOR AN INFANT.

Written for the Mother's Assistant.

DIRGE FOR AN INFANT.

BY MISS ELIZA PAINE.

OH! how shall the lyre be struck for the young?
The requiem dirge for the lovely be sung?

Who have passed from the earth ere a shadow of care
Had blighted the heart, or a passion lurked there;
Whose spirits have flown to a bright world of bliss,
Unstained by the dark sins and follies of this?

Are mourning and sadness befitting the song
For those who have joined the glad cherubic throng?
Shall we listen the night-wind's funereal moan,
And sigh for the loveliness faded and gone,
And weep for the clods that lie cold on the breast,
While the soul in the arms of its God is at rest?

Stern Winter is here, and the storm is abroad;
But tempests invade not their peaceful abode.
And say -
do ye hear in the voice of the blast
No sound, but an anthem of woe for the past?

Will ye say that death snatched them too rudely from earth,
Like the bud that is nipt by the frost in its birth?

Nay — think not of all that was lovely and fair,

As the food of the earth-worm, and mouldering there
But behold the sweet floweret, untainted by Time,
Transplanted to bloom in a heavenly clime.
And listen! for there are sweet echoes of song
Come floating from harps of the glorified throng.

Fond Parents, then, let not a murmur ascend,
With his shouts of deliverance and rapture to blend;
But join his glad song of an early release
From the snares of the world to the mansions of peace;
And rejoice that a cherub from your hand has flown,

So pure, and so meet for the joys round the Throne.
South Hadley, Mass., Feb., 1850.

55

AGE.

It is insolent, as well as unnatural, to trample upon the venerable decays of human nature. He that acts in this manner, does but expose his own future condition, and laugh at himself beforehand.-Spectator.

Written for the Mother's Assistant.

THE UNREPAIRED SHOE.

BY ALMIRA AUGUSTA.

LITTLE Ellen's shoe had been ripped open at the side more than a week, when, one day, she came limping in from school.

"What is the matter now?" asked her mother.

"O dear!” cried Ellen, sorrowfully, "I've run a tack into my foot, and it aches dreadfully." Her mother took off the shoe, and examined the foot; but, seeing that nothing material had happened, she put it on again, saying, “it will be all well soon.'

“Let me take it to the shoemaker's," said the nurse.

"No matter now, Mary, I've something for you to do." Two days after, nurse espied Ellen's toes peeping through the side of the shoe, the rough gravel having worn a hole in the stocking; so she said, "I will go immediately and get the shoe repaired." But the mother was going out to make calls, and wanted Mary to take care of the baby. "It will do when I return just as well." So saying, the mother went out, and little Ellen's shoe was thought no more of that day.

In the afternoon there came up a drenching storm; the wind blew a tempest, and the rain poured in torrents. As soon as the hurricane was abated, the scholars were let loose from school; and little Ellen's foot was benumbed with wet and cold, as she made the best of her way home.

That night, Ellen was taken ill of the croup. Her mother sent for the doctor, and did all she could to save her little daughter's life, but it was of no use. When the sun arose in the eastern sky, the angel came to convey the spirit of little Ellen to that land, where wind and tempest are never known.

"All my sorrow comes from putting off to the future, what ought to be attended to to-day," sighed the mother, as Ishe laid her loved one in the cold grave.

Thelismar Cottage, Feb., 1850.

BAD BOOKS.

57

THE SOUL'S PASSING.

"THE Soul's Passing" is the title of a touching poem in a late "London A husband is looking upon the scarcely cold form of his dead

Athenæum."

Books are company; and the company of bad books is as dangerous as the company of bad boys or bad men. Goldsmith, who was a novel-writer of some note, writing to his brother about the education of a nephew, says, "Above all things, never let your nephew touch a novel or a romance." An opinion given in such a manner must have been an honest opinion. And, as he knew the character of novels, and had no nice scruples on the subject of religion, his opinion ought to have great weight.