spoke of, that she never spoke in company or before strangers without blushing. She was of such great natural sensitiveness and even timidity that, in some respects she could never conform to the standard of what was expected of a pastor's wife. In the weekly female prayer-meetings she could never lead the devotions. Yet it was not known that any body ever expressed criticism or censure on this account. It somehow seemed to be felt that her silent presence had more power than the audible exercises of another. Such impression has been given me by those who have spoken of this peculiarity.

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There was one passage of Scripture always associated with her in our minds in childhood; it was this: 'Ye are come unto Mount Zion the city of the living God, to the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innumerable company of angels; to the general assembly and Church of the first-born, and to the spirits of just men made perfect.' We all knew that this was what our father repeated to her when she was dying, and we often repeated it to each other. It was to that we felt we must attain, though we scarcely knew how. In every scene of family joy or sorrow, or when father wished to make an appeal to our hearts which he knew we could not resist, he spoke of mother.

"I remember still the solemn impression produced on my mind when I was only eight years old. I had been violently seized with malignant scarlet fever, and lain all day insensible, and father was in an agony of apprehension for my life. I remember waking up just as the beams of the setting sun were shining into

the window, and hearing his voice in prayer by my bedside, and of his speaking of 'her blessed mother who is now a saint in heaven,' and wondering in my heart what that solemn appeal might mean.

“I think it will be the testimony of all her sons that her image stood between them and the temptations of youth as a sacred shield; that the hope of meeting her in heaven has sometimes been the last strand which did not part in hours of fierce temptation; and that the remembrance of her holy life and death was a solemn witness of the truth of religion, which repelled every assault of scepticism, and drew back the soul from every wandering, to the faith in which she lived and died.

"The passage in 'Uncle Tom,' where St. Clare describes his mother's influence, is a simple reproduction of this mother's influence as it has always been in the family.

"The following lines, written by her eldest daughter, Catharine, then a girl of sixteen, were a tribute offered to her memory. We knew them by heart in our childhood, and often repeated them with tears:

"The busy hum of day is o'er,

The scene is sweet and still,

And modest eve, with blushes warm,

Walks o'er the western hill.

The great, the good, the rich, the wise,
Lie shrouded here in gloom;

And here with aching heart I view
My own dear mother's tomb.

"Oh, as upon her peaceful grave
I fix my weeping eyes,
How many fond remembrances
In quick succession rise.

"Far through the vista of past years
As memory can extend,

She walked, my counselor and guide,
My guardian and friend.

"From works of science and of taste,
How richly stored her mind;
And yet how mild in all her ways,
How gentle meek and kind.

"Religion's bless'd and heavenly light

Illumined all her road;

Before her house she led the way

To virtue and to God.

"Like some fair orb she bless'd my way With mild and heavenly light,

Till, called from hence, the opening heav'n Received her from my sight.

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Now left in dark and dubious night,

I mourn her guidance o'er,

And sorrow that my longing eyes
Shall see her face no more.

"There may I see her smiling face,
And hear her gentle voice;

And, gladdened by thy gracious smile,
Through endless years rejoice."

* Reprinted by permission of Harper and Brothers.

CHRIST THE MENDICANT

BY JOHN B. TABB

A Stranger, to His own
He came; and one alone,

Who knew not sin,

His lowliness believed,

And in her soul conceived

To let Him in.

He naked was, and she

Of her humanity

A garment wove:

He hungered; and she gave,
What most His heart did crave,

A Mother's love.

THE MOTHER OF WASHINGTON

BY WILLIAM M. THAYER

From Turning Points in Successful Careers

George Washington's mother was a woman of strong character, of whom George Washington Parke Custis wrote:

"The mother held in reserve an authority which never departed from her, not even when her son had become the most illustrious of men. It seemed to say, 'I am your mother, the being who gave you life, the guide who directed your steps when they needed the guidance of age and wisdom, the parental affection which claimed your love, the parental authority which commanded your obedience; whatever may be your success, whatever your renown, next to your God, you owe them most to me.' Nor did the chief dissent from these truths; but to the last moments of the life of his venerable parent, he yielded to her will the most dutiful and implicit obedience, and felt for her person and character the most holy reverence and attachment."

Historians and poets, statesmen and orators, have ever accorded to the mother of Washington a signal influence in determining his character and career. So universal is this sentiment, that the American people consider the noblest tribute to her memory is the inscription upon her monument, "MARY, THE MOTHER OF WASHINGTON."

His school days closed a month before his sixteenth birthday. His vacations, and such other times