The mother can take man's whole nature under her control. She becomes what she has been called, "The Divinity of Infancy." Her smile is its sunshine, her words its mildest law, until sin and the world have steeled the heart. She can shower around her the most genial of all influences, and from the time when she first laps her little one in Elysium by clasping him to her bosom-" its first paradise to the moment when that child is independent of her aid, or perhaps, like Washington, directs the destinies of millions, her smile, her word, her wish, is an inspiring force. A sentence of encouragement or praise is a joy for a day. It spreads light upon all faces, and renders a mother's power more and more charm-like. So intense is that power, that the mere remembrance of a praying mother's hand laid on the head in infancy, has held back a son from guilt when passion had waxed strong.

WOMAN'S CHARMS.

Woman's charms are certainly many and powerful. The expanding rose, just bursting into beauty, has an irresistible bewitchingness; the blooming bride, led triumphantly to the hymeneal altar, awakens admiration and interest, and the blush of her cheek fills with delight; but the charm of maternity is more sublime than all these. Heaven has imprinted on the mother's face something beyond this world, something which claims kindred with the skies-the angelic smile, the tender look, the waking, watchful eye, which keeps its fond vigil over her slumbering babe.

The mother is the angel-spirit of home. Her tender yearnings over the cradle of her infant babe, her guardian care of the child and youth, and her bosom companionship with the man of her love and choice, make her the personal center of the interests, the hopes, and happiness of the family. Her love glows in her sympathies, and reigns in all her thoughts and deeds. It never cools, never tires, never dreads, never sleeps, but ever glows and burns with increasing ardor, like sweet and holy incense upon the altar of home devotion. And even when she has gone to her last rest, the sainted mother in heaven sways a mightier influence over her wayward husband or child, than when she was present. Her departed spirit still hovers over his affections, overshadows his path, and draws him by unseen cords to herself in heaven.

Every woman in becoming a mother takes a higher place in the scale of being. A most important work is allotted her in the economy of the great human family. No longer does she live for self; no longer will she be noteless and unrecorded, passing away without name or memorial among the people. No longer can it be said of her, reproachfully, that "she lent her graces to the grave, and left the world no copy.'

BECOMING A MOTHER.

A lady wrote to a friend on becoming a mother: "You have gained an increase of power. The influence which is most truly valuable is that of mind over mind. How entire and perfect is this dominion over the unformed character of your infant! Write what

you will upon that printless tablet with your wand of love. Hitherto, your influence over your dearest friend, your most submissive servant, has known bounds and obstructions. Now, you have over a new-born immortal almost that degree of power which the mind exercises over the body, and which Aristotle compares to the 'sway of a prince over a bondsman.' The period of this influence must indeed pass away; but while it lasts, make good use of it."

Mothers constitute the only universal agent of civilization, for nature has placed in her hands both infancy and youth. Secluded, as she wisely is, from any share in the administration of government, how shall her patriotism find legitimate exercise? The admixture of the female mind in the ferment of political ambition, would be neither safe, if it were permitted, nor to be desired, if it were safe. Nations who have encouraged it, have usually found their cabinet councils perplexed by intrigue, or turbulent with contention. History has recorded instances where the gentler sex have usurped the scepter of the monarch, or invaded the province of the warrior. But we regard them either with amazement, as a planet rushing from its orbit, or with pity, as the lost Pleiad forsaking its happy and brilliant sisterhood.

The vital interests of this country hang largely upon the influence of mothers. We are exposed to the influx of vast hosts of foreigners, who are either unfit to enjoy our free institutions, or adverse to them in spirit. To neutralize this mass, to rule its fermentations, to prevent it from becoming a lava-stream in the garden of liberty, is a work of power and peril. The force of public opinion and the terrors of the