Mothers

"I am tireJ of discusaing househodl ma'ters. Tliere i no worse thing than ! for women to sit day nfter dny taking j caro of miserable, sickly, puliug children." 1 copy the abov-o from an extract of the report of the Womnn'B Rights meeting in New York City, and I wonder ! huw many inotheM will echo the sentimcut. Not one, I thinlc, who hns gone down tu the entrañen of the Dark Vallcy witli har chil J, and waiied thcre, with priiyers, and toara, and bitter wreslling, till God has board her, nnd sho has brought it back alive - live, but so feoble, fo "puliug" and heiplees. Sho has kept her ccaseless vigil through lonely niglits and weary duys wliilo the fsver bumcd its crurse, and f-!ie iind Nature strevo with Death ; and i now she is wan and exhausted, and mimi, and body, and nerves aro overtruined, and vet she must not reliix hor vigilence a moment, for ono uatimely breczs i:iay waf't away the searce recovcred lii'o. But with theso cliuging, emaeiatcd arma about her neek ; whou bIio pressi s her lipa to thoso so thin and fover burncd, and looks into the sunken eycs to iuterprot the desiro the feeble lipa can not frame, oh ask her thca if sho tbinks "there is noihing worso than to sit takin care of that miserable, sictlv" little life. But poihaps the little fect never come back from tho dark wa'ers. Pcrhaps, . dmnb wilh anguish, sha has watched tho lifa-light flicker out from the loving oyes, and feit the life-'.iilo ebb from the infant heart, till gentle liands remove from her clinging embrace the stiffeuing form, and she is childless. She has scen tho fair brido robed for its last sleep - tbe tiny hands clasped over tho sinless breast - put back the curling rings that cluster around tho marble brow - kecpinü; one that shall seem a link betweeu her and her last one - kissod the pale lips that shall lipp "Mamma" nevermore, and gazed and g:ized till e7ery line and feature is engraved on her heart, ere they simt forever from her sight the beautiful clay. She has Been thft small cofSu lowcred ot of her sight, and feit tbe earth clods fall over the tender limbs (for they feil on her heart as well,) then turned away to her darkened home and lonely fireeide. And she has folded avray tho tiny garmen'.s, and placed thera, with the half-woru shoes, aud little toyi, nnd even a few powders - remnonts of the last siükness, but precious now - in a drawer alono, and it becomes sacred to ll13aby" evermorc. And wheo the rain Leats over the earth, or the sbow covers it with a sofi onantle, her heart goes out to that little grave, and though she knows her treasure is not thero, she shivers to think of the lonely casket that once contained it, out alone íq the storm. Ask her what BoiiWi. nuuli 1 tuw giuai, Mlült lulur tnn muoh, if the life so dear could be givon back to lier ompty arms. íío matter how leep a molher's ' tion for her healthy, happy rompiug chüdren, the "decpest depths are uever found" tül sickness or accident rendois the dependaut life moro helpless still ; and many a moíber has toatiüed - when among her group of little ones was fouud one feable or deforracd, or in ony way less fir than the rest - tLat to that ono hae gone forth a tenderer, moro shieldiüg love, and thus heaven-born mother icstiuct covers all blemishes and defects of naturo or disease, "freely giviug, asking nothing again" but love. I havo alwaya pitied chilcllcss women - thosc wbo must go down to the grave and nevur know the soft pressure ot' a baby's arm and lips, or feol the thrill that pulsea through every vein when those little lipa first murmur "Mamma." Even as I write I seo one nest door, gazing wistfully from her window ; her house is in perfect order, her work is over for the day, thero are no Httlo rents to mend, no toys aud pictuies scattered around, but she is very lonely, aud I think sha has missed the sweetest love in life. And across the street, where the bliuds aro so closely drawn, is another lonely woraan, for only a fewEhort weeks siiK'o, a tiny coflio was carried out from the very room whero she sits weeping now, and I turn and clasp my own lltlle boy and git 1 to my heart, with doep gratiludo to hcaven, ivbich has thus given me thejoy of mateinity, and thus tur spared my dear ones to me. But, oh, mother, thero is a "sometliinir worse" than all this, far worse, than that iu their sinlesa infancy our littlo oues Bhould go homo to heaven. A mother needs reereation and checrful eociety, aud selected pleasures, to fit her miud to train the immortal ones intrusted to her care ; but wbon worldly pleasuies and prido and fashions enter in and iill her life, leavicg no time, or epace, or inclination for her holy office of guido aud counselor, then, left to Ihem.selves and the evil nflucnccs whieh always are near, aud whioh a carciul mother'.s hand sliould keep avvay, the openiug miuds receive the evil secd wliich shiill spring up and yield bitter fruit by aud by. "Sorrow, and sin, and death, and verily the end is not yct."